Divisions
by Katrina Puffinstuf
Summary: Hermione and Ron's relationship is on the rocks, and she finds herself seeking a way out of the pain in the strangest of places.
1. I Could Have Lied

**A/N:  
Disclaimer: These characters are not mine, they are JK Rowlings, and the titles of the chapters are all song titles from various artists. I will cite each one at the beginning of each chapter. This one is a Red Hot Chili Peppers song. Also, note that there are a few direct quotes/references from the television show Grey's Anatomy in this story. **

**Please note that this story jumps around in time a lot--any jump in time will be indicated clearly by a break looking like -ooooooooooooooooo-. **

**Enjoy!  
**

**Chapter 1: **

_**I Could Have Lied**_

"Ronald, honestly...!" exclaimed Hermione with a gasp of surprised delight. As the red-head buried his face into her hair and neck, she ran her hands along his familiar, strong, and sturdy frame lightly. Another sigh escaped her lips as she felt his hand fluttering along the hemline of her skirt, touching her skin with his fingertips almost teasingly.

He let out a groan as he allowed his hand to caress her breast and stomach, his lips rising to meet hers as he pressed his body against her. The cold stone wall felt good against her body, and she could breathe in the scent of his hair and sweat as he slowly extracted every ounce of arousal from her body.

From somewhere far away, just as she curled his leg around his and let herself succumb fully to his pleasure, they heard the chiming of the clock, striking seven, the sun casting its dying rays on their faces through the window. They broke apart, the sense of tension permeating the air around them.

Breathing heavily, the two bore into each others' eyes for what seemed like an eternity, until Ron finally cracked a smile, saying, "It's a shame we didn't get to follow through with that."

Hermione leaned her head against the wall, breathing in deeply, also smiling. "I don't even remember the last time you kissed me like that..."

Kissing her on the forehead, he said, "If I knew fighting with you and getting you all riled up like that would get a rise like that out of us..."

"I wouldn't even think of doing it more often," said Hermione in a would-be stern voice, if she wasn't nearly panting. "Although making up is rather... intense." She allowed herself a coy smile, which was very rare for Hermione.

"I'll be seeing you after practice, though?" he said, as they flattened their wrinkled, pressed-on clothing and fixed their hair. "Maybe we can finish this later? Prefects bathroom's never taken Sunday night, you know..." He slid his arm around her suggestively as they started walking down the corridors towards the Quidditch pitch.

"Sure," she said with a smile. "I'll be there at ten."

"Great," said Ron excitedly. "I can't wait." With a quick kiss, he took off with his broom saying, "See you! Love you!"

"Bye!" said Hermione, smiling.

Once he was safely around the corner, red hair and strong arms out of sight, her heart collapsed in on itself in a heap. She bit her lip, turned on her heel and strode down the corridor, attempting to look purposeful, and not as if she was going to burst out into tears because of her failing relationship with Ron Weasley.

Finally, she found an empty classroom to sit and think in. Walking in quietly and checking carefully to make sure it was totally devoid of human life, she closed and locked the door behind her. The tears began to flow freely from her face. In the distance, she could hear Harry barking orders to each of his players. Then, she unmistakably found Ron, hovering around the far goalpost, awaiting the Quaffle to come his way. The tears came harder now.

_Stupid... stupid and silly of him to lie about such a thing..._ she thought. _It's not my fault..._

_-oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo-_

It all started when she had found a note tucked away in his Advanced Potions book two weeks ago. It was just a piece of parchment with a few words on it written in girlish, loopy handwriting. The words shocked her as she read them, and immediately she connected the writing with the only person it could have possibly been.

It read simply, "_Ron, I would love for us to try it again."_

Hermione saw it and fumed. It had to be Lavender Brown, Ron's only ex-girlfriend. What was this "it" that Lavender spoke of? "It" could have been possibly anything, and she allowed herself a moment before she jumped to the most apparent conclusion. Surely it couldn't have been what Ron promised Hermione he had never "done" before. He had explained to her a few times that he had barely done anything but "get a good snog in" with Lavender. Hermione begged him not to elaborate on that point, and he seemed more than happy to oblige.

However, when Hermione approached him with the wayward note in his Potions book, something changed in his usual playful, honest expression. He faltered for words and couldn't look at her directly.

"Erm," he started weakly, "she was tutoring me in Potions earlier this year. I needed help."

Hermione's jaw dropped in amazement as well as increasing horror. "Ron," said Hermione, trying to rein it in, "Lavender is abysmal at Potions."

Ron shifted his weight onto his other foot and just stared at the top of Hermione's forehead. Hermione, too, could not bring herself to look him directly into the eyes. Tension skyrocketed as the two sat in silence.

"You and I both know that this 'it' in the note refers to something else entirely."

Ron shifted his eyes away from Hermione guiltily, turning away and shrugging. "Look, Hermione, it really isn't what you think."

Hermione spluttered for the correct, coherent words that would express the fuming, flaming thoughts speeding through her mind without using too many expletives. "Ron... I..." she began, only to cut herself off by striding up to his face and staring into his revealing eyes. In a deathly whisper, she said, "Tell me. NOW."

Ron flung himself down in one of the plush chairs of the common room and said, "It was when were dating, Lavender and I." He put his head in his hands and ran his fingers through his hair in frustration. "You never _really _asked the extent of our... y'know..._relations_... so I never _really _told you what _actually _happened between us."

Hermione sat opposite him as he poured out his last secret to her in great, horrific detail. Her jaw was dropped and her hand covered her gaping mouth as tears streamed from her eyes. He had lied to her about something he trusted him on with her entire heart as well as body. As he finished, again, they sat in that unbearable silence. The tears stopped, only to be replaced by a suppressed rage that stemmed from the shattered trust.

Ron, at a loss of what to do, took Hermione into his arms. At that very instant, she shoved him bodily in the opposite direction, eyes seething with anger.

"You!" she shrilled loudly as she strode across the room and into his face. She restrained her tiny, ineffectual fists from pounding him and instead just stared him down. It was effective enough to scare him, however, her intense stare could not even begin to express the agony of broken trust that raged in her mind and soul.

"Hermione, I'–"

"You what?!" she yelled. "You couldn't be bothered to tell me about how you jumped into bed with Lavender? After I've opened up my secrets to you?! After I've trusted you with my innermost thoughts?! What, were you that worried that I wouldn't _put out_ for you if you told me the truth?!" She turned away from him, throwing up her arms, enraged. "And you say, you _dare_ say, it meant nothing to you... that I mean more... yet, yet..." She spluttered for words.

Ron approached her, concerned for both her well-being as well as his safety. Again, he tried for the embrace.

"NO!" she roared with a voice and vehemence that he had never heard from her. "Do not TOUCH me!" She was panting now, and it became harder and harder for her to hold back from hitting him. "If it didn't mean anything," she said in a low growl, "then how come you didn't tell me? And how do I know that all of..._this..._ the sex–_HOW_ do I know that I'm no different, now? How am I supposed to know if you are telling the truth?" She breathed heavily and held back sobs. "A-and how can I trust you? You knew this was important to me and I gave you an out... I wanted you to tell me so we could have that honesty... and now..."

Ron bit his lip as he made a point to stare into her eyes. He knew he had made the mistake of not telling her right from the start. He was afraid that she would think less of him. Eventually, he did resolve to tell her... _someday_. However, he did not take into account that Lavender may not hold up her bargain of the deal of not speaking about it (or in this case, writing about it) with him or anyone, again. He remembered seeing the note and not thinking much of it. His experience with Lavender was... well, it wasn't awful... but he was happy with Hermione and more comfortable. Most importantly, he loved Hermione in a different way... in the way that _mattered_. Yet, was there anything he could do, now, to stop her anger?

"Ron, what is a relationship without trust?" she said quietly.

"Well," he began in small voice, "Hermione, you know, I was _going_ to tell you, I just needed to find a time where–"

This seemed to be the wrong thing to say. "No, Ron, I'm sorry." She got up in a hurry and said, "A relationship without trust is simply not a relationship. At least, not in my book. If I can't trust you... which I _can't _at this moment in time... I just... can't..."

Ron snapped to attention at once. "You can't what?" he asked very seriously. Hermione looked away at once and walked towards the door.

"Hermione," he repeated, "You can't _what_?"

"Ron, I'm sorry," she said sadly, as if she were ripping out her own heart. "I can't be with a liar."

Ron stood there for a moment, staring at the empty doorframe as she walked out. He walked to his bed, laid down, and only when he caught a glimpse of her photograph waving to him out of the corner of his eye, did he burst into tears as his own heart tasted agony.


	2. I'm Going Slightly Mad

**Chapter 2:**

_**I'm Going Slightly Mad**_

_Idiotic, really... if he would have just told me before...I would have never..._ she thought with bitterness.

She let the tears flow, knowing it was better for her to do this alone and not in front of Ron. She couldn't have him knowing how stupid she really did feel that he could be...

-oooooooooooooooooooo-

Hermione found that news spread fast, and her eyes were opened to the wide world of being in your Seventh Year and being single. While she didn't get asked out immediately, there were flirtations that occurred in a variety of places. She found that Dean started talked to her more almost immediately, and that Neville would try to help her with Herbology, even though she was superior even to him in that subject area. Even Malfoy took notice and shot his usual "nasty Mudblood" comment to her, although tagging on at the end, "Though I think we'd all enjoy it if you wore your skirts shorter, Granger."

Her teachers even seemed to take notice of the breakup, although they did _try _to do it subtly. Both Professors McGonagall and Sprout both offered her a cup of tea in their offices to "talk about career options" and "the future". Hermione respectfully declined, knowing that anything that might be said in those discussions that may be Weasley related would soon get back to the rest of the Weasley clan. That was something that Hermione could live without.

When Potions class came around, however, Professor Snape was blatantly _not_ subtle about it, as his class was whispering fervently right under his nose, since Hermione took the furthest seat from the front of the class to avoid Ron. It was the first instance that she did not take her usual front and center seat, which was clearly the best place to sit if you were to be attentive, a good note-taker, and a chronic nuisance to the man that is Professor Snape.

"Silence!" said Professor Snape, in his usual icy, menacing tone. However, his usual threat did not seem to quash the whispers that darted around his room out of the corners of their mouths. The only two that seemed to be silent were the two people that all of the gossiping was about–Hermione and Ron.

Snape waited for his silence, but it did not come.

"Well," he said over the whispers in a very dreary, almost monotone voice, "I suppose no one wants to tell me what this latest gossip is, do they?"

The whispering began to die out little by little, as the attention was turned directly to the professor.

"I suppose this has _nothing_ at all to do with," he said, pausing for effect, "the downfall of the Granger-Weasley dynasty, hmm?"

Ron's ears turned that characteristic shade of rose, and Hermione simply stared at her books, blushing furiously. The class was deadly silent now. Did he really just, as they say, go there?

The professor stared the class down and said, "Although as fascinating as their love life... somehow... may be, I can assure you that I will dock points from the next person that even speaks out of turn for whole duration of this class! Am I understood?"

There was silence, though in the far corner of the room, there was a very quietly muttered, "_Yes sir... bloody fucking prick you are..."_

The class would have gasped if it weren't punishable by loss of House Points so close to the end of the year. Hermione's face reddened as Snape glared at her, and she stared back with an equal intensity. She expected the worst, but did not care, as she was still openly wounded from Ron's lie of two nights ago. She almost felt bad about losing her house points, but she definitely felt a surge of adrenaline as she bore into her Professor's eyes without fear. For Hermione, the rules were not necessarily made to be broken, but every so often, stretching them to the breaking point

felt outrageously good.

Snape looked surprised. The look was almost comical, his eyebrows raised and mouth agape. If the corner of his lips turned up ever so slightly, he would have been smiling, even laughing. Hermione's stare was hard as steel, relentless and angry. Snape made steps towards her, stopped, seeming to have changed his mind, and then shifted his gaze to Ron, who was simply gazing ahead past his desk, at the wall–an expression of numbness splayed across his features.

"Weasley," he said in a deadly quiet tone, "Twenty-five points from Gryffindor."

Ron nearly jumped out of his seat, leaving Harry to yank him back and hold him down. The Gryffindors broke out in an uproar, save Hermione, who was simply shocked.

"Professor, I didn't even _do_–"

"Silence, you idiotic _boy_," he said icily, "any dunderhead can see that this whole situation is _your_ fault."

Ron looked up, so intensely infuriated that his whole face was as red as his ears.

"Granger," he said without even looking at her, "you will see me after class to discuss your detention."

Hermione merely nodded, and got her quill out. Her rule-breaking fun was over. It was time to work.

**(A/N: Chap. Title is by Queen)**


	3. Meltdown!

**Chapter 3:**

_**Meltdown!**_

As she sat in the cool chamber, she found her tears drying up at the thought of her brash encounter in that Potions Class. A smile touched her lips and she pulled her eyes away from Ron and the Quidditch pitch. A strange feeling welled up inside of her, and her heart began to pound.

-oooooooooooooooooooo-

Professor Snape sat at his desk, poring over an essay, when Hermione made her way over to him after class. She was prepared for anything that he would say to her, and she felt what little adrenaline she had left in her system begin to course through her body. She could handle a little detention. In fact, she welcomed the challenge.

"Sir?" she said calmly, brushing her hair to the side. "What do you want me to do for my detention?" She wanted so badly to give off the air of confidence, just to annoy the hell out of him.

The professor looked up from the essay and glared at the young woman. "Sit," he said, gesturing at a chair in front of his desk.

Hermione sat, rather shocked that she was going to be simply sitting across from her teacher that was obviously going to lecture and yell at her due to her uncharacteristically vulgar remark, as if they were going to chat over a cup of tea. He turned back to his essays, silently, eventually scrawling a large 'F' on the top of the parchment. Scoffing at the essay, he thrust it into a pile and then began reading a new one. Apparently, he did not take notice that she had sat down and was patiently awaiting her punishment.

She waited for a full minute, until she then said, "Sir?" once more.

He did not even peer up when he spoke to her. "Miss Granger," he said, "do you enjoy disrupting me while I work or is your need for male attention not satiated without dear Mr. Weasley by your side, honest and true?"

She drew her breath inward sharply on the word 'honest' and almost responded rashly, stopping herself before it was too late, and willing herself to keep composure. She crossed her arms in front of her chest and fidgeted a little. Then, she took a deep breath and said, "Why did you take House Points from... him... and not me? It's not like it even makes a bit of difference who gets the points taken away."

Snape looked up, and Hermione expected him to be livid. Instead, he just wore a peculiar expression and said, "Your silly breakup has been the talk of half of my classes for the past day and a half. It's very safe for me to assume that you weren't the cause of this idiocy."

"Well, no," she said calmly, thinking about it, before snapping back to reality and saying, "Not that it is any of your business... _sir_."

"Lower your defenses," he said drearily, "I could care less about your silly relationship with that _boy_." He then went back to grading papers.

Hermione shifted uneasily in her seat. Why was he keeping her here, when the entire purpose of her visit was for him to give her a detention for acting out in class. "Sir, I was the one who... well... said _that_ in class today."

"Would you have called me a, what was it? A bloody... fucking prick, was that right? A bloody fucking prick. Yes, that's it. Would you have even thought to utter that in my class if you were happy and merrily loving a Weasley?" he said sardonically.

Hermione scowled at him. "I've thought of a great many things that I'd like to say to you." she said, an iciness in her voice to rival his.

"Touche," he said, giving her an upward glance. "I've thought of a great many things that I'd like to say to you. However, I do somewhat enjoy my profession and wouldn't want to risk it. So 'insufferable know-it-all' will just have to do for now."

She was now beside herself. Composure thrown aside unceremoniously, she stood up and said, "Oh, why don't you go down to Malfoy's level and call me a Mudblood." Her voice was scathing, and she knew she was risking at least a suspension or 1,000 House Points for speaking in this way to her professor, but she felt that he, too, had crossed the line.

Well, at least she crossed _her _own personal line.

"Don't even stop there," she said, her voice rising. "Call me filthy, call me ugly," she said, throwing her hands up in the air, abandoning all self-control. "Call my parents worthless filth, call my family useless and a hindrance, call me overeager, call me... call me..." Suddenly, she was losing it, and all she could think about was the note in Lavender's girly handwriting, beckoning Ron back for sex, sex that he'd promised Hermione that he didn't have, and how she couldn't ever look at Ron the same way ever again... that she had been a fool enough to place her trust, hopes, and future in a person that could barely keep it together himself...

"Call me an idiot," she said softly, bursting into tears. Her heart was pounding madly, and it was no longer fun to try and annoy her rude teacher.

Professor Snape looked down at the sobbing figure with a pained look on his face.

**(A/N: Chap. Title is by The Aquabats)**


	4. Hope Your Feeling Better

**Chapter 4:**

_**Hope Your Feeling Better**_

Hermione found herself walking out of the room, in the direction of the big stone steps that led down to the dungeons. Her mind was clearing and heart was speeding up with each step she took.

-oooooooooooooooooooo-

The professor was in uncharted territory now. He had a student, whom he could have very potentially harassed, bawling her eyes out on a chair in _his_ dungeon. She was a smart girl–brilliant, really–and emotional as all hell. It was a bad combination, her sobbing voice was carrying, and if this situation were to escalate and attract attention...

Well, that just couldn't happen.

Professor Snape strode over to Hermione, who was absolutely beside herself, sobbing with dry heaves. He wasn't quite sure how to handle this, but he decided, very grudgingly, that an apology would probably help.

"Miss Granger," he began cautiously, "I am very... well, I feel as if I may have said something to make you... upset."

She only cried harder at his feeble attempt.

"I'm sure if you are feeling upset about this, Professor McGonagall would be happy to help you if you wanted to...discuss... your...erm... feelings?"

At this, she looked up, and her tear stained face was pitiful, making even Severus Snape's heart wrench ever so slightly. "Feelings about what?" she said, her face slightly confused.

"The... well... er... Mr. Weasley..." he said, absolutely at a loss for words as he peered down at her face.

"Professor," she said, dabbing at her eyes with her sweater, "I don't think she would particularly understand my feelings, as sometimes my feelings tend to break rules that she often imposes on relationships while at school."

"Oh," said Snape, realizing that he had definitely crossed the line, now. Professor McGonagall was a staunch advocate of the no public or private displays of affection rule at Hogwarts. Especially the _very_ private displays of affection. Snape had a sickening feeling that some very private displays of affection occurred between Granger and Weasley. He could just picture the scene–clumsy making out, experimental earlobe nibbling, and the enamored plea of so many teenage males with reluctant girlfriends, "Can I stick it in please just once?" It made his stomach clench, seeing a girl such as Miss Granger in that situation.

"And what am I supposed to think," she said, tears coming back now, "about when you said that you think things about me but you can't say them for fear of losing your job?"

"Oh, well, the fact that I favor you," he said matter-of-factly, "or is that not apparent to you, yet?"

"You don't favor me," she spat. "I'm an insufferable know-it-all, in your words. Do you know how hurtful that is?"

Snape rolled his eyes at her. "Being smart is a compliment, Miss Granger. I just need to word it so it doesn't sound like I'm favoring you while we are in class."

"You favoring me won't make you lose your job," she said sharply, "Let's be honest here. I know teachers favor me–I'm the only person around here that actually _enjoys_ learning what they teach me."

He couldn't help himself from imagining that same testy, sharp little voice nagging at her dipshit, lazy ex-boyfriend to get his work done. The thought brought a simple satisfaction to him as she went on.

"So then, I have to assume you would wish to call me a Mudblood. That would probably put you out of Dumbledore's favor, I'm sure."

"Don't be naive, Miss Granger," he said. "The word 'Mudblood' is a racist term, and clearly blood purity is no show of brilliance or intelligence. No, Miss Granger, it really is simply because I favor you." Throwing caution to the winds, he then finished with, "I find you to be an... intriguing individual. I can't very well be favoring you outright. Young Draco Malfoy would have a fit, for example, and your silly friends wouldn't trust you if you were the one student that _I_, Professor Snape, liked. Favored, rather."

Hermione blushed and stared at her shoes. This was all a bit much to take, with her head already in a whirl from the fiasco with Ron. She mumbled, "What about my detention, sir?" She felt a warmness in the pit of her stomach that she couldn't precisely explain. It was suddenly impossible to look face to face at her professor.

"Oh yes, well," he said, matter-of-factly, desperately wondering why he just called a student intriguing while trying to calm her down. "You can grade first year essays tomorrow night after supper. Bring red ink and a few decent quills."

"I'll go, then," she said, getting up to leave and gathering her books. "I'm sorry for... you know... crying all over your office."

"It's, erm... not a problem," he said awkwardly. "I suppose you can come down... if you wanted to learn more about... Potions..." Speech usually was one of Professor Snape's good points, but for some reason today, words did not seem to want to come out of his mouth correctly.

"Okay," she said, not really listening, just remembering this newly known fact that she was actually intriguing to someone. Someone who wasn't a redhead with overactive testosterone and a lack of discipline. She walked out of the room, nearly tripping on the step on the way out.

Professor Snape took a deep breath and began grading his papers again. What the hell had just happened?

**(A/N Chap. Title is by Santana)**


	5. Love Potion 9

**Chapter 5:**

_**Love Potion #9**_

She found herself pacing outside of his office door for a good fifteen minutes before she got up the courage to place herself firmly in front of it, getting ready to knock on it. Hermione took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and raised her hand to knock.

To her shocking surprise, the door opened before her hand could strike the wood. Severus Snape stood in the doorway, saying, "Miss Granger, your indecisiveness is unsettling."

-oooooooooooooooooooooooooooo-

Detention. And mascara. She had detention with Professor Snape and she had skipped dinner to apply mascara to her eyelashes. Hermione knew that deep down, she was acting very silly and childish, but all the same, she was putting on mascara to go grade essays with Snape. Lavender asked her what she was getting all dolled up for. Through gritted teeth, she replied that she just felt like trying out some new makeup. Secretly, she really just wanted to hex the hell out of her perfect little face that Ron used to kiss.

She walked down the hallway feeling a sort of anxiety. She walked quietly down the stone steps to the dungeons, and arrived five minutes early. The professor was not yet in his office. This, for some reason, caused her heart to sink. Had she gotten this excited over detention?

Or was it the fact that her professor found her intriguing that she was so eager to see him again?

And wore mascara, on top of it all.

After what seemed like an eternity, she could hear hurried footsteps echoing throughout the corridor outside. Seconds later, Snape swept in through the door, his cloak billowing behind him. Immediately, he pulled out his wand and began sending papers over to a smaller desk in front of his own, facing it.

Hermione took this cue, pulled out her quills and red ink, sat down, and began to read the first essay promptly. No words were spoken, yet there was an inkling of tension pulsing in the air around them. It was small, barely perceptible, but existent all the same. Still, Hermione was slightly unnerved by the fact that he didn't even greet her, not even with a usual snide remark.

_Stop being stupid,_ she thought to herself. _Stop expecting something where nothing is due. _

She kept grading papers in the silent room, save for the noise created by Snape pacing back and forth taking inventory of his storage in the adjoining room.

Hermione was nearing a quarter of the way through the stack of essays when the Professor finally stopped his pacing, stopping in front of her desk and bending down to examine the essay she was currently grading.

"Having fun?" he said quietly as he read the essay over her shoulder, making Hermione jump nearly a foot into the air.

Her heart pounding, she settled back into her seat, saying, "I'm sorry, sir." She cursed herself for being a jumpy little thing. Then, she went back to grading papers, saying, "And it isn't what I would call fun."

"Which is precisely why I call it 'detention'," Snape replied curtly, taking off his outer robes and hanging them on the coat rack in the corner of the room.

Hermione looked up to reply, only to see her Professor walking towards his desk, not wearing his usual black, heavy robes. She was silenced as she saw him. He was clad in black pants and sweater vest with a clean-cut collared white shirt underneath. The sleeves were rolled up to the elbows, showing his pale, albeit muscular forearms. Her gaze wandered out of her control as she examined the rest of her professor's physique. As he settled in his chair across from Hermione, she willed herself to look only at the paper in front of her. She wasn't prepared for the eventuality that her professor would actually be attractive if he took off the facade of huge, creepy, black robes from time to time. He looked so much younger, dressed rather like an older schoolboy.

Professor Snape pulled out a stack of papers and, too, began grading. Hermione caught herself sneaking glances at him as he read over each essay, noting the way he ran his hand through his hair as his head rested on his elbow. She also cursed herself for admiring the way he let his quill tickle the skin under his chin as he sat, pensively reading along, scrutinizing each paper coming his way.

Was her Professor right? Did she really need male attention now that Ron was gone?

Or was it the fact that he found her to be intriguing, and that, she, too, admired his superb intelligence?

Perhaps, because she found him to be extraordinarily attractive when he sat in front of her grading papers with that expression on his face. That particular expression that, for some reason in this moment, drove her mad with desire.

Or was it..

"Miss Granger, did your parents ever tell you that staring is rude?" he said, without even looking up. His voice seemed different, though. It lacked that dullness. Instead, it was truly inquisitive.

Even though he had caught her, his voice and words seemed to slide right over her body, caressing her. It took a few moments for it to all register, and when it did, she snapped back to attention and said, "I don't know what you are talking about, sir." What had gotten into her?

Snape answered, "I'm sure," in his deep tones, and Hermione planted her feet to the ground to keep them from tapping nervously. She was being absolutely silly. Picking up the next essay, she began reading it. She found herself reading the same line ("The Draught of the Living Death is a cool Potion cause it makes you die but not really"... first years are funny) about 100 times before she looked up in exasperation, only to find the professor looking right back at her.

"Now who's staring, Professor?" she said, giving herself an inward pat on the back for handling the situation so coolly.

"Not staring," he said matter-of-factly, "just simply noting that the rate at which you have been grading has slowed significant in the past hour. I suggest picking up the pace if you,"–he consulted his pocket watch–"want to get out of here before morning." He smirked at her, and she blushed, her stomach doing backflips.

Hermione attempted to work yet again, this time, finding herself closing her eyes and allowing her photographic memory to take over, replaying the past two hours' events in her head, especially the parts which involved him speaking and making eye contact with her. She was losing it, and though she refused to label herself as being sexually repressed, she did not understand why this man was so appealing to her in this moment.

Or was she finally getting closer to living the age old teacher crush fantasy?

Her natural impulse stamped that desire out of her head, but it came back with a rush of emotion and adrenaline. It was nearly impossible to keep still. A sigh escaped her lips. Professor Snape glanced up at her.

"Are you quite alright, Miss Granger?" he asked, the smirk on his face so apparent that one might even mistaken it for a smile. His voice had a hint of a laugh in it.

All forms of verbal communication seemed to fall out from her grasp, and all she could do was stutter, "Uh... I-I'm...alright... yes, fine... just... uhm..."

He looked at her quizzically. "Miss Granger," he said, "if these papers are too much for you, I can send you back and we can... finish... another night."

Her heart thumped onward in her chest, threatening to burst out as the blood rushed through hot in her veins. "No!" she said a little too quickly. "I don't mind it at all. Please, really, I will stay." She was nearly panting, trying and failing miserably to get ahold of herself.

The professor still stared at her, examining her anxious features–her fidgeting hands and feet, her wandering eyes, her inability to look at him in the face, and the irresistible way that she bit her bottom lip...

He couldn't do this... he needed composure...

Suddenly, he stood up. She nearly jumped again, and her heart sped almost painfully. He strode over to her and said, "You ought not to be distracted in detention. You aren't getting anything done," he said, gesturing to the huge stack of unfinished papers. "I feel as if a dungeon is a place of least distraction, but please, allow me to remove whatever is hindering your detention, Miss Granger!" He was staring down at her, his expression tangled between rage and unsuppressed excitement. His lips were slightly parted, and she could see him up close as he stood next to where she sit.

"You would," she gulped, trying to hold back the quaver in her voice, "y-_you_ would have to leave, sir."

The professor's heart stopped almost dead in its tracks. "Pardon me?" he said quietly, bringing his face eye level with Hermione.

His eyes were unreadable, and that made it all the better. Hermione blinked once, then twice–three times, breaking the eye contact to make sure that it was really happening. She waited a moment, and then slid her arms around his neck, pressing her lips to his, eliciting a surprised sound from her teacher. In that moment, the temperature skyrocketed all around her, and his lips felt like fire against her own. She stood, taking their kiss higher and higher, allowing her tongue to trace against his lower lip, running her hands down his arms, and finally breaking apart from him as they reached his fingertips.

Breathing heavily, she looked up at him, and reality came crashing back to her. Ron. Lavender. School. Potions. The sheer fact that she just kissed Professor Snape. ...Ron.

The last thing she saw before she turned tail and bolted from the classroom was the look of utter surprise on the Potions Master's face, his eyes at once vulnerable and triumphant at the same time.

**(A/N: Chap. Title is first done by The Clovers)**


	6. Never Is Enough

**Chapter 6**:

_**Never Is Enough**_

Professor Snape led Hermione inside of his office and offered her a seat in front of his desk. Surprisingly, he took another seat in front of his desk next to her.

"What brings you here this evening, Miss Granger?" he said in a casual tone, though something mysterious was glinting in his eyes.

"I've come to finish my detention, sir," she said slowly, placing the emphasis on 'sir', and not breaking eye contact for a single moment.

-oooooooooooooooooooo-

"Pig's Liver!" Hermione yelled at the Fat Lady, who looked appalled as she swung the portrait open. She rushed back into the Gryffindor common room, sweating, panting, and almost in tears. She rushed headlong into Harry, who caught her in his arms.

"Easy, Hermione!" he said with concern. "Was detention with Snape that bad? What did he do to you?"

Hermione was shaking. "N-n-nothing, Harry, I'm fine." She glanced around the common room, saw Ron, and inadvertently caught his eye. She looked away immediately, reddening in her cheeks and getting hot all over. Harry took her attention back by grabbing her right about the shoulders and focusing her.

"Hermione, breathe," he said. "Breathe, relax, and then tell me what happened."

"I..." she began, though knew she couldn't continue. "I can't!" she said loudly, before shooting up the stairs to the girls dormitory. Once safely inside, she flung herself onto the bed, drew the hangings around her, and buried her face in her pillow.

The other girls inside made their way downstairs, sensing that Hermione needed to be alone. When she heard the last of them leave, she allowed herself a deep breath, letting the oxygen back to her brain so she could think straight.

Then, she found that all she could think about was the feeling of Severus Snape's lips on her own, and longed for more.

-oooooooooooo-

Professor Snape stood still like that in his classroom, mouth still wet from the kiss, for a few minutes, though it was unlikely he was aware of the passage of time. His ears were ringing and his heart was beating to the breaking point.

And normally, if a student had stormed off from detention, he would have sent Filch after them and brought them back down to finish.

However, normally, the student in question does not opt to make out with the professor.

Right.

He sat back at his desk and tried to grade papers but found it impossible. Her kiss still burned hot on his lips, illicit and forbidden. He couldn't help his arousal, and found it impossible to "think it away". After trying to finish his work for another half hour, he claimed defeat and retired to his chambers the floor above, making sure to wear his big outer robes in order to his prominent protrusion from wandering eyes in the hallway.

At once, he laid in bed and closed his eyes. Even the guilt he may have harbored for a few moments at first disappeared. _She is a student_, he thought, trying to calm himself down_, you've crossed the line, now..._ _But _she_ is the one that did it... she crossed the line... ha, well... you did a fantastic job trying to stop her... all the same, she is a student and if word got out... goodbye nice, comfortable life at Hogwarts... but with a kiss like that..._

His feelings were so mixed and wrong. Each one of his students, save some Slytherins, absolutely loathed him. He was hated by most and liked by very precious few. He wasn't conventionally attractive, though he was rather intelligent and knew a thing or two about just about everything. And yet, this girl, this seventeen year old girl, was hot for him in ways that he wished women his own age would desire him. She was brilliant and wise, hardworking, and gods, did she have guts–kissing him like that in his own classroom. A textbook Gryffindor in ways that would normally made him want to puke, if it weren't for the mindblowing kiss she just gave him. How could this even happen to him?

More importantly, was this a supreme stroke of luck or a deadly curse?

**(A/N: Chap. Title is by The Barenaked Ladies)**


	7. Take It Back

**Chapter 7:**

_**Take It Back**_

"Miss Granger..." said Snape, his tone smooth and eerily tantalizing. "You've put me in an extraordinarily compromising position."

"I realize..." she said, looking away from him and at her shoes. "I do take full responsibility for..." She trailed off, her mind wandering to the kiss she had given them. It was something she did more often than she cared to admit, especially when it came to expanding the kiss into something more. She looked up and found her professor staring into her eyes, plunging into her soul...

-ooooooooooo-

By the time the next Potions class rolled around, Hermione was still indecisive on what to do about her current sticky situation. Ron was still horribly bent out of shape about the breakup, though the gossip about the two of them did die down. She was still reliving her detention with Snape every chance she got, though she avoided him at all costs. She even thought of skipping the class, scared of seeing what his reaction would be when he first saw her. Eventually, she resolved to go to class, though she would sit in the back and try her hardest not to raise her hand whenever she knew the answer to a question.

As she took her seat in the back that morning, however, she saw a sight that made her want to vomit a little in her mouth. Lavender had nonchalantly taken a seat next to Ron, and began excitedly talking to him in whispered tones. Whatever she happened to be saying was turning his ears bright red. Hermione pulled her eyes away from the pair, seething.

Professor Snape called the class to attention, but Hermione just stared at her books, fuming at Lavender for being so bold only a week after the break-up. She knew that she shouldn't have felt that way–she _did_ break up with Ron, and she _did_ kiss Snape, but still, the idea of it made her angry. You don't break up with someone and then totally forget all the feelings that were there before... or perhaps Ron already did.

Again, the blood began to boil inside of her as the adrenaline prepared itself to surge.

_Calm... just stay calm for the class..._ she told herself mentally. _Just stay calm and don't think about Ron... Or Lavender... or kissing your–_

"Miss Granger," said Professor Snape, suddenly, looking at her sharply. "Could _you_ answer the question, since the rest of the class seems to have not done the reading that I assigned?"

Hermione panicked on the inside, her adrenaline cutting loose, which sent her feet tapping nervously. Not only did she not hear the question, she had forgotten to do the reading he had assigned previously, distracted by the break-up and detention. She looked around the room for some kind of help, only to find the class staring back at her mundanely. "What was the question, sir?" she asked as calmly as she could.

Snape clicked his tongue at her in mock-dismay. "Oh dear," he said to the class, "it seems that Miss Granger, for the very first time in her know-it-all existence, was _not_ paying attention." The class sniggered a little as Hermione blushed a furious shade of pink. "Quit daydreaming, Miss Granger, and tell me, what is the third ingredient added to the Polyjuice Potion?"

She almost sighed in relief. In her second year, she singlehandedly brewed a batch of Polyjuice Potion to disguise themselves as Slytherins (and herself, unwillingly, a cat). She recalled the recipe in her head, looked down the list, and sure enough, as clear as day, the ingredient was...

"Fluxweed," she said in a matter-of-fact tone. Even though she knew it was luck, she felt good about pulling that one out from her sleeve.

"Correct, and don't let me catch you daydreaming in my class again, Miss Granger," he said sternly, turning away and then proceeding to write the rest of the ingredients to the potion on the board.

However, when they were all cutting up ingredients for next week's class, she allowed herself a glance towards him. In the same moment, he looked up at her, giving her the most subtle, suggestive glance she had ever received from an individual. Her knees went weak and she nicked the tip of her finger with the knife that she was cutting her gurdyroot with.

"Ouch!" she said quietly to herself, as she quickly drew up her finger to her mouth before it could bleed on her ingredients. Luckily, however, it did not bleed.

She stared back at her professor, only to see him buried in his work again.

-ooooooooooooooooooooo-

Ron had about enough of being depressed. He was sick of feeling so alone and empty. He was sick of being hounded by Lavender, who was pretty much the whole reason he was in this mess in the first place. He didn't want her. He didn't _love_ her.

The biggest issue was trying to speak to Hermione, as she refused to talk to him for even a moment. He couldn't stand seeing her in such pain, knowing he caused it simply by telling one lie. He had no idea that he would never be able to speak with her again the evening they spoke of Lavender and him. He had no idea that their last kiss was going to be but a peck on the side of the lips before class. It did not occur to him that the last time they slept together, she ended up getting very self-conscious about herself, and all he could say was, "Stop worrying, you're fine," before rolling over and going to sleep. In essence, he found himself to be a pretty lame boyfriend. Still, he knew he could do better, for her. It would be worth it, for her.

As he passed her in the hallway as he walked down to Quidditch practice, he figured that it was now or never. He looked up at her while she stared directly ahead, purposely not making eye contact. As he passed her, he stopped in his tracks, hoping she would do the same. Instead, she plowed onward.

"Hermione!" he called after her, though it was to no avail. She sped up through the corridor, apparently not hearing the redhead call after her.

"Come on, Hermione," he said, walking after her briskly. The girl now nearly broke out into a run. He could hear her starting to sob. She ran into a classroom and locked the door.

Ron came upon the door and looked at it exasperatedly. He tried the handle and then "Alohamora!", but he should have known that Hermione could cast a spell to make sure he couldn't get in. Using "Alohamora" was an insult to her intelligence.

He knocked, begged, and pleaded with her to come out of her room. He rolled his eyes and said, in his best Snape-impression, "Miss Granger, could you please come out of there?"

At once, she opened the door, red-faced, blotchy, and panting, saying, "What the fuck is wrong with you?!"

"I love you," said Ron simply, "And I'm not going to let you get away." With that, he grabbed her about the waist and swept her into a deep kiss, pushing her into the room, and closing the door behind them.

Hermione simply could not protest. In her mind though, a certain professor's lips were caressing hers...

**(A/N: Chap. Title is by The Barenaked Ladies)**


	8. In The Flesh?

**Chapter 8:**

_**In The Flesh?**_

Ron, Harry, and the rest of the Gryffindor team were sweaty and tired from practice as they hit the showers. It was a good, hard practice–the kind that made you feel confident and good about your team. They learned a few new techniques, and Ron performed flawlessly–a rare occurrence.

"You were really on top of your game today, mate," said Harry to Ron, clapping him on the back. "You saved everything, perfect form–everything. Best you've played in weeks."

"I'm having a lucky day, I suppose," he said, grinning. He dropped his voice to whisper saying, "Between you and me, I think Hermione and me are going to get back together." He nodded enthusiastically as he stripped off his sweaty clothes and stepped into the shower.

"She's alright with you now, then?" said Harry. "That's good, I suppose. She was very bent for awhile, you know."

"We both were!" he said indignantly. "I mean... well... you know, she did have the right and I can understand that. Things are looking up though... at least, they were right before practice." He grinned inwardly to himself. It was going to be a great night, tonight.

Minutes later, they were drying off and getting dressed. Ron still had that air of subdued happiness about his features, and the rest of the team was feeling positive. They went on their way, laughing and joking, back to the Gryffindor common room.

As they walked down the corridors, they heard a mighty ruckus coming from what sounded like the floor below them. They heard voices and stuff banging all around.

"What's going on?" asked Ron concernedly. "Sounds like a scuffle."

Harry, feeling investigative and worried, said, "Reckon we take a look?"

Nodding in assent, they made their way down the large stone steps quietly, trying to hear the direction of the muffled noise. As they made their way closer, the noises became more distinct, and the atmosphere became distinctly more uncomfortable.

"Is that... coming from Snape's office?" asked one of the girls on the team, her nose flaring in disgust.

As they inched closer, they could hear yells and screams, but they certainly were not the negative kind that you would associate with pain and getting beat up. They were the kind you would associate with things of a pleasurable nature.

The seven of them cringed as they came to the stark realization that Professor Snape was getting busy with someone in his office. They all began creeping back up the stairs until a shrill, pleasured voice rang out through the corridors, saying, "_Oh, Professor...!_"

Stopping dead in their tracks, they looked around at each other silently. So Professor Snape was playing dirty with a student...

Bolting up the stairs to where they couldn't be heard, they all burst into conversation at once.

"I can't _believe_ I just heard that!"

"My ears are bleeding!"

"The man's good in the sack, he must be, have you seen how huge his _nose _is? I'd bet that it's just enorm--"

"EWWWWWW!!"

"He's screwing a student. He could get in so much trouble..."

"Now, guys," said Ginny, "let's not jump to conclusions. His lover may have a fetish or something. Likes guys in power and whatnot... might like to just _call_ him 'professor'..."

"Ginny!" said Ron. "Keep those thoughts to yourself!"

"I'm only saying..."

"I say we go straight to Dumbledore," said Harry, fuming. "If that _is_ a student, it can't possibly be legal! She could be being forced against her will to do..."

"Harry, I don't think he's forcing her to do anything," said Ron, still unable to keep his happiness down regarding his later date in the bath with Hermione as he heard the professor's mystery lover let out another enamored yell.

**(A/N: Chap. Title is by Pink Floyd)**


	9. Cosy In The Rocket

**Chapter 9:**

_**Cosy In The Rocket**_

Hermione pulled her skirt back down, barely able to stand up straight. She was panting, sweating, and absolutely in no condition to go out into the halls of Hogwarts. She straightened out her shirt frantically, unable to properly think. Propping herself against his desk, she caught her breath, tried to calm herself down, and attempted to stop her legs from quivering. She shut her eyes and just tried to make sense of how it all exactly had happened.

It all started with suggestive conversation, although she doubted that neither of them thought it would ultimately lead to _this_. They had stared at each other in silence for what seemed like forever, trying to read each others' minds through eye contact. It didn't help that Snape was growing more accustomed to not wearing his heavier robes while Hermione was around. It also did not help that Hermione was picturing him pinning her against the wall in a furious, kinky sexual encounter.

In that instant, Hermione then found out how skilled a Legilimens that her professor really was.

Suddenly, she _was_ pinned up against the cold stone wall in exactly the fashion that she had imagined, and suddenly her whole body was aflame with maddening desire. He pressed his entire self onto her, which she embraced wholeheartedly, feeling his ardent heat and desire as she allowed him to take her over.

And so, it began. It did not take long for the heat to intensify to the point of partial clothes shedding, which invariably led to indulging in each others' bodies to the fullest. She had never felt anything so raw and exquisite, amazed at this man, who was so adept at arousing every cell in her body to the point of pure ecstasy. She had never heard a voice so melodious in the throes of pleasure. From the start, even the pain--nearly blinding pain that seemed to cleave her into two halves--was not enough to stop her from allowing him to throw himself into her, over and over and over...

To both of their surprise, Hermione found herself wanting to take control of the situation, and found herself pinning her professor onto a desk with a skill she had no idea she possessed. Suddenly, she found herself uttering things that she never could have said in any other situation, and doing things that she did not feel at all comfortable doing with any other person. The devilish side of her had come out for a well-needed breath of fresh air.

And then it had ended as abruptly as it had started. Hermione had collapsed on top of him, her head on his chest. She felt his racing heart finally slowing back to normal, his breathing no longer a pant. It was a few minutes before either of them moved from their position, uncomfortable as laying on that desk was.

Now, Hermione was wondering what the hell was going to happen next?

--

Professor Snape stared out of his office window at the twilit sky above. The stars were just peeking out of their daytime hiding places, and the sun's rays were nearly extinguished, casting a pale orange glow against the spring sky. He yawned, arching his back slightly as he did so. He had an incredibly painful backache. And leg ache. Groin-ache. He didn't know it was possible to get a groin-ache from something like... that.

Then again, he didn't think he would be having sex on his desk, either.

With a student.

With his _best_ student.

He didn't know whether to feel elated or guilty. True enough, she had come to his office with at least _some_ intention of finishing what she'd started in detention. Tension rose rather quickly and suddenly, he found himself reading her thoughts and being unable to control the beast inside of him.

She didn't stop him. She didn't even protest. She _relished_ in him. Each kiss that he gave her, she returned with a fervency that he hadn't felt in years, if ever. The feeling of her tongue, deliciously exploring his own lips and tongue with such desire was mindblowing. Her body quivering and rubbing against his in excitement while she was in the confines of his tight embrace was enough to send him over the edge.

Still, kissing--however passionate and deep--was rather harmless.

And then, to his happiness and surprise, she decided to take off his pants. A bold move on her part, though he was certain that she was in for the shock of her life when she finally partook in him.

It _was_ shocking, and he could tell from her gasps of mixtures of pain, excitement, and, ultimately, mind-bending pleasure. It was in that moment that he realized that he _may_ have gone a bit too far with his brilliant, young pupil. Guilt tried to set itself in upon him, and as he tried to pull back from her, she took the upper hand and climbed astride him.

The girl had furiously had her way with him, whispering some of the dirtiest things he'd ever heard (and shouting others), and then proceeding to actually go through with what she had been whispering about. His head was numb with shock and pleasure that he simply could not stop the situation. Through her hair, flying around her face, wild and untamed, he could have sworn he saw her smiling at one point, in the blur of it all. How could he take this from her?

Then, the fantasy ended, and it was time to re-enter the real world. In moments, she was on the other side of the room, checking her reflection in the mirror and nervously smoothing her clothing and hair. Suddenly, she was the student, vulnerable and sensitive. She was clearly confused at what to do next–that, or relishing in the past hour's experiences rather impassively. He was the teacher, the elder–supposedly wiser, supposedly more adept person when it came to handling these sorts of experiences.

Yet, he, too was at a loss for words.

He pulled on his pants, wondering how long the silence would last before he had the gumption to break it.

In the distance, the clock striking ten o'clock broke the silence for them. Hermione seemed to be struck awake at the bells, a look of pain crossing her features, eventually settling for a sort of worried stare. She sprang into action, pacing across the room.

"My goodness, is it really ten?" she exclaimed, rubbing her forehead, noting the sweat that still was shiny and wet on it.

Snape looked down at her as she strode up to him. He was still shirtless, and she was fully-clothed and fretful. She looked more like a young schoolgirl more than ever. He couldn't help himself from noticing that her skirt was riding up on her thigh on one side, exposing her smooth flesh, and the guilt began wearing down upon him. He felt the strong need to cover the rest of his body as she gazed up at him with those same inquisitive eyes he saw in class every day. He gulped almost noticeably, saying, "Yes, Herm–Miss Granger, it's just now ten."

Hermione's face contorted with an expression of guilt, too. "I-I-I... I've got to be somewhere... I had plans..." she stammered. "I... oh, goodness, what have I done... what have I..." She stared at him as he leaned against the desk atop which they had shared as a lusty bed. Shaking her head in disbelief, she said, "I've got to get out of here."

He merely raised one eyebrow at her in what he thought would be concern, though she mistook it as amusement. She glared at him with piercing eyes, full of some kind of infuriation that only a female was able to experience.

"Oh!" she exclaimed angrily, picking up robes and throwing them on unceremoniously. "Severus Snape, you make me so... so..."

"So _what_...?" he said with a mock-sneer.

The girl looked as if she were about to explode from either anger or worry. She balled her fists up at her sides and looked for the correct word. "You just... even when we were kids... you've always made me so... ugh... FUCK!"

With that, Hermione threw up her arms, turned on her heel, and went to make her way out of the room. Before she could leave, he flicked his wand in her direction. In one instant, her skirt was perfectly pressed, her hair unfrazzled, her body un-sweaty, her cheeks less flushed, and her lips less... well... purple from kissing.

She whipped around angrily as she felt the magic upon her, staring at him.

He shrugged saying, "You neednt fumble over the words it would take for you to explain this."

She considered this and opted for kindness, however muted it may have been. "Thank you, _sir_," she said in a forced tone. "I appreciate your kindness."

"The pleasure is all mine," he said, his lips curling into a smile.

Without another word, she bolted out of the door and down the corridor.

And so she had left him standing there, by the windowsill near his desk, examining the stars and wondering what to make of this insanity.

**(A/N: Chap. Title is by Psapp)**


	10. Scar Tissue

**Chapter 10:**

_**Scar Tissue**_

Hermione had run down the hall as fast as her legs would carry her. Her destination? The Prefects' bathroom. Her reason? Ronald Weasley.

Her reason for tardiness? Having illicit sexual relations with Professor Snape.

_Shit... oh shit, oh shit, oh shit, oh shit..._were her only solid thought processes in her mind as she sprinted down the corridor, her footsteps echoing around her. She was in such a hurry that she actually overran the bathroom by several paces.

Hermione made her way back to the portrait, whispered the password, and then climbed in through the hole. She could already see Ron relaxing in the water, playing with the taps around him. He turned his head around to see her stumble in.

"Hermione!" he said excitedly. "I was beginning to think you wouldn't show..."

"Oh!" she said, giggling a little too nervously, "well you know me, I get caught up with things... and stuff. Got sidetracked. But no matter... I'm here now!"

"Perfect," he said, hoisting himself out of the water. Stark. Naked... and wet!

Hermione's stomach did that familiar, almost involuntary flip-flop as she saw his Quidditch-honed, well-defined body perched so beautifully on the side of the bath. Her mind was at war with itself, one side pining for the security and attractiveness that Ron could give her, the other side wondering what she was supposed to do with the Snape situation. If there even_ was_ a Snape situation. She bit her lip, and just stared at her ex-boyfriend with what she hoped was a look of intent.

"Well, are you going to come in or what?" he asked, his face looking playful.

"Oh yeah," she said, taking a stab at playful and failing miserably. "Definitely." He did not seem at all phased by it though. She took off her robes and went to hang them up by the changing room. She grabbed a towel and proceeded to go in to change.

"What?" Ron complained loudly, laughing a bit. "I don't get to watch?"

"You get to wait," said Hermione, keeping her voice as playful and feminine as possible. She absolutely was not in the mood for another round of this. Her mind was failing her for once in her life, and she kept coming up with blanks for excuses. She took off her shirt and glanced up at her reflection in the mirror. She did a double take in horror when she looked upon her pale skin.

Marks. Dark, crimson red and mouth shaped. _Snape_-mouth shaped. There were three; one on her breast, one on her hip, and one by her shoulder. This was not going to fly. She whipped out her wand and began muttering spells under her breath, but to no avail–the marks were as dark as ever. There was no was she could let Ron see these miniature monstrosities." She put her shirt on and thought as quickly as possible, going with the very first thought that came to her head.

"Oh shit!" she said loudly. "It came just a few moments ago!"

Ron jumped out of the bath in disbelief, wrapping a towel around himself and going into the changing room. "Are you kidding me?"

"No," she said, putting on an annoyed expression. "It must've came as I was coming down to meet you. I must have just not noticed."

Ron looked seriously upset. "This doesn't seem right," he said, rubbing his chin. "Thought it was next week. I still have them... you know... marked on the calendar."

"I guess it's early," she said, shrugging. "Besides, I am kind of sleepy." She managed to get a good yawn in, then saying, "Look, Ron, we shouldn't just rush back into this. We should take our time."

Ron scoffed saying, "Do you know what it's been like without you?" He shook his head angrily saying, "I've been a wreck. A complete trainwreck. I just... I miss you and I've had enough of you really believing that I wanted to hurt you...or whatever you think."

Hermione's heart began pounding with guilt. "This just... Ronald... ugh... we should _talk_ about this." Words still weren't coming as fast as usual, and she was fighting to stay afloat and to not come across as guilty in this conversation. He was thoroughly unconvinced.

"Look," she continued bluntly. "I could jump into this pool with you and we _could_ still have sex, if that's what you really want." He smiled at her excitedly and grabbed her about the waist, running his finger along the hem of her skirt. "I mean, if you don't mind the blood."

Ron's upper lip raised with mild disgust, stepping away from her and patting her lower abdomen lightly. "Er, we can hold off til you're done... you know... with your womanly thing."

"Thank you," she said. "Let's go back to the common room and see what everyone else is up to."

Ron nodded in agreement.

Hermione secretly let out a great sigh on the inside as they made their way back to Gryffindor tower. She was safe and in the clear... at least for tonight, anyway.

**(A/N Chap. Title is Red Hot Chili Peppers)**


	11. Strip My Mind

**Chapter 11:**

_**Strip My Mind**_

Hermione awoke the next day with her body in the most blinding, excruciating pain. She could just barely manage to sit up in her bed before her back, hips, legs, and every other body part screamed in protest at the process of normal muscle function. She let out a whimper as she went to stand up fully, hearing her legs making a cracking noise as she did so. Wincing as she walked, she took a detour to the bathroom and turn the shower on its hottest setting.

She let the hot water caress her aching body, paying no mind to the scalding sensation it left on her skin. She let her head rest against the cool wall, and just stood stock still in the water. Yesterday's events were coming back to her now. She had taken a potion the night before for a dreamless sleep, just to get away from her own mind. Unfortunately, there was nothing that could stop her thought processes from functioning normally during the day.

Professor Snape had managed to etch himself a place in her mind's eye, as well as in her body in numerous places on her skin, and all throughout her aching muscles and body. Her lower abdomen was aching with the pains of her encounter. She ran her hand along the skin on it and felt the muscle twitch in pain beneath her own touch.

_It was your own damn fault,_ she thought, annoyed with herself. _You were the one that took off his pants, for crying out loud!_

_Ah,_ another voice said in her head, _and weren't you the one that practically jumped on it when you saw how enormous it–_

_But..._said the Voice of Reason_, anyone could understand that this is all deeply emotionally rooted in the fact that Ron lied to me about something I valued, which also happened to be sexual. And it is NOT about the Professor... it's about me. And Ron. The Professor... well, it can't happen again. It just...won't. _

Hermione stepped out of the shower, slowly and carefully, resolving not to let Snape cross her mind and to also avoid Ron at all costs, today. She needed a day without the thought of any sort of thing with a penis.

The day inched by slower than any day she had previously encountered. Her hands seemed to be the only thing that functioned without too much pain, which was lucky–at least she could take notes properly and not draw too much attention to herself in class. Walking down the hall, however, was no easy task. As she hobbled with pain, she knew she attracted some wayward stares and glances. It was an act of grace when she found Ginny by her side, instinctively putting an arm under her shoulder and displacing her weight so it was easier for her to walk.

"Thank you, Ginny," she said with a sigh. "I feel like such a fool, staggering all around like some geriatric old woman."

Ginny just smiled and said, "Don't worry about it, really. You might want to go see Madam Pomfrey about it. What exactly is 'it', anyway?"

Hermione scrambled for an answer. "Erm... well, I was running a bit yesterday." The truth was better than nothing, after all, she did run quite a bit yesterday.

"Running?"asked Ginny with a snort. "You don't _run_, Hermione."

"I _do_ run..." she said. "I run from your brother when he trying to talk me into sneaking into classrooms with him."

"So you are back together, then?" she asked happily. "Oh that's... it's wonderful. I can't wait to tell Mum!"

"Erm... yeah," she said, trying to hide the worry from her voice. She cast into her mind to try and find something to take the subject off of Ron and her. "So... um... was Quidditch practice alright?"

"It went rather well," she said brightly. "Ron played brilliantly, it was a great change of pace for the team." Suddenly, a look of surprise played across her features and she stopped them both dead in their tracks. Ginny turned Hermione so they were face to face, and then leaned into her, whispering, "I totally forgot to mention this to you but,"–she looked around to make sure no one was within earshot–"the team went for a jaunt in the castle and we heard something absolutely scandalous coming from the dungeons!"

Hermione's face blanched, and her stomach fell towards her feet. "W-what kind of scandal would happen in the dungeons?" She inwardly kicked herself for sounding so mundane towards her best friend.

Ginny leaned in even closer, whispering in her ear, "_We heard Snape getting busy with someone... we're pretty sure it was a student!_" Ginny pulled away from her friend, saying, "Scandalous, right?"

"Absolutely..." said Hermione, unable to look Ginny in the face completely. "Absolutely scandalous..."

--

Hermione decidedly hobbled at a much slower rate when it was time to attend Potions' class. Perhaps, if she moved slowly enough, she would miss the double class entirely, and she would forgo seeing either of them until she could _really _settle it all in her mind. Unfortunately, the door to his oh-so familiar classroom came upon her sooner than she would have liked, and she walked in, trying not to wince as she moved.

She took a seat in the back, alone. She looked over at Ron, who looked disappointed that she did not go and sit with him. She eyed him and just waved him off. He shrugged and let it go, most likely thinking that it was her fictitious "period" that was making her cranky. As she took out the chair from beneath the desk, a loud and shrill scraping noise filled the otherwise silent dungeon.

"Fifteen minutes _tardy_?" said the deadly silky voice of Professor Snape from the board at the front of the room. "I'm... I'm at a loss for words."

Hermione simply ignored his statement and began taking her texts and notebooks from out of her bag, wincing in the process.

The Professor continued on his tirade. "For a girl that has spent her _life_ polishing apples and being a professional note-taker, taking school so _seriously_... I am just astonished at the bad behavior that you have succumbed to in recent weeks."

Her head snapped up at this comment. Did he just dare to go into the territory of bad things that she may have recently done? She simply glared at him.

"I'll forgo the detention this time," he said. "Instead, you will write out my notes today on the board as punishment. I'm not going to let you _sit_ all day in your cushy little note-taking seat."

She just shook her head as she painfully rose from her seat and hobbled to the front of the room with her wand in hand.

"Ah," he said, slipping her wand out of her grip with his long fingers. "No magic... you'll be using chalk, Hermione."

She swayed on her feet, not entirely sure if it was because her pained legs were giving out from underneath of her, or due to the sheer fact that _her _name leaving _his _lips in such a manner in front of the class threw her. She lost her balance and fell right onto her bottom in the front of the room, causing the class to roar with laughter. She burned scarlet in her cheeks as she attempted to get up. The pain in her legs, however, had reached a point where it too much for her to handle, and try as she might, she simply could not stand.

The laughing class clearly did not take notice of their professor's face twisting with concern, and the fact that he lent the girl a hand to lift her upright. She staggered to the chalkboard and balanced her weight in a way that did not hurt her so much. He handed her a piece of chalk as the laughter died away, and then said, "I trust you've read the material."

"Yes, sir," she said quietly, grimacing at the agony that ensued when she moved any part of her body, especially the lower half. She waited for the professor to begin his lecture, and then began to furiously scrape the chalk against the blackboard, quickly, as he spoke.

Barely fifteen minutes into the lecture, she felt her muscles convulsing beneath her skin, trying to resist the pacing that she did in front of the chalkboard as she wrote. Suddenly, she turned too quickly and pulled the muscle in her hip in such an agonizing way that she cried out in pain.

The Professor whipped around and looked infuriated. "Miss Granger!"

"My legs _hurt_," she said, slowly, red in the face. "I can barely stand,_ sir._"

He raised his eyebrows impassively, his lips tightening white over his teeth. With a calculating stare, he eventually said, "Fine. Take this,"–he took out a piece of parchment and quill from his pocket and scrawled a note onto it–"and go to Madam Pomfrey."

Hermione shuffled over to Professor Snape as fast as her legs would allow, and snatched the parchment out of her hand. "Thank you, sir," she said under her breath. As she walked to the back and gathered her things, the class was whispering quietly. She tried to block out the whispers, fearing that what Ginny had told her had gotten out into the rest of the student body.

Before she walked out the door, she couldn't help but hear two Ravenclaws whispering and looking at her in what they thought was a discreet manner.

"..._yeah, did you see his face when she fell?"_

"_Bet you she's polishing _his_ apples for sure..._"

**(A/N: Chap. Title is Red Hot Chili Peppers)**


	12. Who Did You Think I Was?

**Chapter 12:**

_**Who Did You Think I Was**_

Hermione sat in the waiting room in the hospital wing, feeling relieved, frustrated, and embarrassed at the same time. At least she wasn't in class anymore, being humiliated by her professor and listening to her peers tear her apart for something that they didn't even really _know_ that she did. Frustration ensued as she thought of her professor acting so out of character–yes, his usual Let's Poke Fun At Hermione mentality was unchanged, but the idea of him simply sending her down to the office with a note in hand, essentially letting her skip class was unnerving. Was he playing mind games with her, or did he actually give a damn?

And then she fell on her ass. How could one fall on one's ass and not feel at least a _little_ embarrassment?

She opened the note and read it, immediately realizing that this was nothing that Madam Pomfrey ought to _ever_ see...

_My apologies for pounding you so hard that you can barely stand, although I ought not take all of the credit here, Miss Granger. I daresay you enjoyed yourself thoroughly. I will meet with you this Friday at 8 for an exchange of explanations. My office. _

Hermione's heart fluttered and stomach churned as she read the note in his meticulous scrawl over and over again. Suddenly, all of the images, scents, and sounds of yesterday's events hit her like a most heavenly sack of bricks, and she allowed herself to relish in them, as she collapsed in the chair.

There most definitely _was_ a Snape situation, and it made Hermione ache even more inside knowing that she wanted him so badly. It also made her not able to listen properly as Madam Pomfrey called her name out once, twice, a grand total of three times, until the testy nurse strode over to the daydreaming girl, snatching the note away from her.

Hermione screeched loudly, "Don't!!" as she saw the nurse's eyes gloss over the parchment. She sunk down into her seat and awaited the blow that was going to inevitably come her way in moments.

"What is your problem, girl?" said Madam Pomfrey irritably, shaking your head at her. "You come down here for my help and can't even listen enough to hear me call you in?"

"But... but... I had thought... you took it and..."

"You can keep your silly nurse's note," she said, thrusting the parchment back at her. "If you treasure Snape's bloody signature that much, then you can keep it. I certainly have no use of it."

"Signature...?" she said, perplexedly. Nowhere on the note that _she_ had read was there a signature from Snape. She scanned the note as Madam Pomfrey led her into the hospital wing, only seeing his handwriting and no trace of a signature, nor any sign of any other note on the backside. Not willing to chance fate, she did not ask any further questions about what Madam Pomfrey may have read and simply sat on the hospital bed, awaiting her examination.

As the nurse tapped, poked, prodded, and looked into various places of her body, she also interrogated her thoroughly.

"Have you been lifting heavy objects more than usual?"

"Not really."

"Exercising more than usual?"

"Erm... I ran a bit yesterday."

"How long?"

"Well... about 30 seconds."

"Right... that wouldn't cause all this pain and tension. Where would you say the pain hurts the most?"

"Erm... my lower abdomen... hips are killing me, too... and my legs. It hurts to stand."

"Hmm..." Madam Pomfrey kept on prodding and poking as she nonchalantly asked, "Have you had unusually rough sexual intercourse lately?"

"Well... wait... _what?_" spluttered Hermione as her words registered in her head. She couldn't be serious!

"You are exhibiting the symptoms of overexertion on muscle groups that are, well, quite active during that... action," she said, now looking up at Hermione with her arms crossed.

"Well, um..." she began. "Hypothetically speaking... if one were to do that... action... roughly... would there be something that could treat the pain in that specific... you know..."

"Area?" she finished for her, looking sternly at the girl as she blushed furiously. "Yes, but hypothetically speaking, I would need to know the last hypothetical time you had the hypothetical sex in order to make the potion more effective. I also would need a hypothetical evaluation of the pain of that certain area."

Hermione looked down into her lap, muttering, "Last night, and on a scale from one to ten, I would rank the pain as a nine."

She shook her head at Hermione, saying, "The potion will take only a few minutes to brew. Take these,"–she thrust a few pills into her hand–"for the leg cramping and I trust I don't need to inform _you_ about the importance of protection during intercourse."

"Thank you, Madam Pomfrey," she said, feeling utterly ashamed of herself. The good feeling that Snape's note had brought to her was quashed by the look of disdain upon her nurse's face. She laid back on the bed and closed her eyes, easing any pain that was in her body, leaving her to contend with the confusion within her mind.

**(A/N: Song Title is John Mayer)**


	13. Happiness Is A Warm Gun

**Chapter 13:**

_**Happiness Is A Warm Gun**_

Hermione's awkward visit to the Hospital Wing had put even more of a damper on her day, even though all of her pains were virtually erased from her body. There was not even a twinge to remind her of the last night's events, although she found the three hickeys on her person to be evidence enough of it all–to give her certainty in her mind that it all _really _happened.

She was not really sure how to feel about the professor, though the feelings she _did _have were mostly positive. Still, this was territory she had never foreseen, for she was Hermione Granger, and Hermione Grangers were not acting sane if they were screwing Potions Masters, let alone kissing them, let alone _wanting_ them so desperately.

Was it a one-night stand? Would he give her a reasonable explanation? Would he stand there, telling her that it was a mistake, that they had gotten carried away, and that it would be the best kept secret that the two of them had ever known? Or would he dare to expose that passionate layer once again, letting their bodies embrace despite any differences they may have had? Would it then be a _multi-_night stand? Could the professor be her lover? Was their first encounter leaving _him_ desperately wanting more, to explore the uncharted territory lay outside, inside, and all around this girl--this girl that he had watched turn from a snot-nosed, eleven-year old, nosy brat into an inquisitive, brilliant, and attractive young woman? Was her voice enough to make his mind run rampant with desire? Was she...

It was never supposed to be like this. One-night stands and desirous professors did not factor into the equation that was Hermione's life. She was the top of her class and bright--nerdy, but bright. She was supposed to be the woman with the high-paying, high-stakes job after Hogwarts–winning colleagues over with her fierce dedication to her beliefs, friends, and, most importantly, her knowledge. She was going to settle down with the Ideal Man and devote her life to him and _maybe_ a child, but her real dedication would lay in her work. Her life was to be spent doing something worthwhile, and her free time was to be spent poring over her favorite books and learning more and more and more... because it was what she _loved_ to do. What she was _meant_ to do.

Now, she wanted to be the object of someone's attention–she was turning into the stereotypical young woman, wishing to be a starlet, a sex symbol--a pinup model scantily clad and pinned on a teenage Professor Snape's wall, posing in such a way that begged him to gaze on. She wanted so desperately to know if she could arouse a simple, animalistic emotion in a person simply by existing, by going to class, seeing him, and secretly knowing that he was hot for her. Passing by in the hall, to onlookers, it would seem unremarkable and yet, their glance towards each other would be so full of tension, full of that tug-of-war teasing game that they could potentially play with each other, beckoning each other for more games that they could play behind closed doors.

What was everything turning into? In the past two weeks, her life began to evolve into something unthinkable... and she wasn't stopping it.

-ooooooooooooooooooo-

As dinner approached, she was beginning to get slightly apprehensive for a variety of reasons. For the entire day, she avoided any real contact with her classmates, or ex-boyfriends, for that matter. Dinner meant seeing Ron. She wasn't entirely sure if Ron and she were actually a couple again, even though Ginny did assume that they were. She just blocked the idea of dating Ron out of her head–it wasn't something she could face right now. The conversation would happen between them eventually–the conversation regarding their relationship. What would she do then? Well...

She would put it off for as long as possible.

Right.

Dinner also meant possibly making eye contact from afar with Professor Snape, now having the knowledge that he did, at least, _enjoy_ their steamy encounter of the evening before.

Score +1 for Hermione. Snape encounters just became very awesome and something to look forward to, in her book. As she approached the Great Hall, she smoothed her skirt and hair, placing it just so behind her ear. She wanted to give off the air that she was somehow _not _as interested as she actually was in knowing what Snape had to say, so she walked in a casual manner, not daring to even glance at the High Table for a second. Taking a seat between Ginny and Neville, she simply said "Hello" and began eating, slowly, almost methodically. When would she chance a glance up at the table to see if he was looking in her direction? What kind of look would she give him? Would he oblige and give her a telling look, too? Would she want to–

"Hermione? _Hermione_!"

Hermione looked up from her food, spluttering. "What is it?" She found Ginny and Neville both staring at her as if another appendage had sprouted forth from her forehead.

"You look... funny," said Neville cautiously. "You've been acting odd."

"You have a sort of evil smirk on your face," said Ginny, "Like you put a cherry bomb in the toilet, and you're waiting for someone to sit on it so their bum gets blown off."

Hermione rolled her eyes and started on her food again. "Dunno what you are talking about, really," she muttered. She chanced a glance at the High Table. There was no sign of him, which was at once a breath of relief and also a curse. She wanted to see him, though she didn't want to seem as if she were _looking_.

"Right, so where were you in class today?" asked Nevile, poking his potato listlessly. "In transfiguration?"

"Oh, well, I was, you know..." said Hermione, fishing for some words that didn't sound stumbling coming from her lips. "I'm ahead in transfiguration, you know? So... I went to catch up in other subjects.. In... the library."

"Always trying to get ahead, eh, Hermione?" said Dean from across from her. He grinned at her, as he was apt to do ever since Ron and she broke up. Hermione laughed half-heartedly and gave him a smile, as something, _someone_, caught her eye in the distance across the hall. She drew her breath in a little too sharply when she saw him stride into the room. Immediately, she stared down at her plate, hoping that nobody caught her surprised reaction.

Ginny was staring at Snape, as he nonchalantly took his seat next to Flitwick, looking strangely positive–almost happy. "Yes well," she began very matter-of-factly, "Hermione, if you want to get ahead in _Snape_'s class, all you'd have to do is shag him."

Hermione spluttered food chunks and pumpkin juice all over herself. Through a chorus of "ewws" and chuckles, she turned bright red.

"Yeah, the idea of it makes me sick too," said Ginny, still eyeing Snape. "Although, he looks quite less terrifying without those enormous bat-like robes he usually wears..."

Hermione's heart flip-flopped in her chest, recalling the moment in detention where she first saw his less-menacing frame, sitting behind the desk, his hands, large and long-fingered, wrapped around the quill so perfectly, the feather just tickling his chin...

"..._and then we _definitely_ heard a girl scream out 'Ohh Professor!'..._"

Hermione jerked out of her slight trance only to find Ron sitting awfully close to her, his hand on her thigh and moving upwards. He leaned into her, saying, "_Let's get out of here_," into her ear softly, giving her leg a squeeze.

She shifted uncomfortably in her seat, moving his hand off of her thigh. She muttered out of the side of her mouth, "My time of the month, remember?"

Ron mouthed, "So?" and then grinned at her. She did not return the grin, and forced herself to turn her attention to the conversation that Ginny led, telling all of the boys of the team's experience in the corridor by Snape's office.

"Maybe it was a _former_ student," mused Neville. "She still knows him as Professor... maybe she _liked_ him or something..."

Ginny glanced again at Snape, who was now muttering something to Professor McGonagall, leaning down towards him from behind him. "I don't know about that... he isn't the best looking bloke..."

"He's smart though," said Seamus. "Some girls love that brainy crap..."

"Too bad he's a git," added Ron, who had apparently (and thankfully) abandoned his conquest for Hermione, sitting a normal distance away from her, although still next to her. "I reckon it was a Slytherin girl. The Ravenclaws are smart enough to know better, the Hufflepuffs are terrified of the man, and Gryffindors--"

"That's betrayal, that is," said Dean. "No Gryffindor girl would ever..."

"Oh, I don't know," said Ginny, "There are some good-looking Slytherins..."

"Ginny, if you _ever..._"

"Shut up, Ron, you know I'd never..."

Hermione sat silently, listening (or at least pretending to listen) intently, unable to find anything worthwhile to contribute to the conversation. She supposed that she ought to feel some sort of embarrassment upon hearing all of this, secretly knowing that _she_ was the girl that was in bed with the teacher. The Slytherin teacher. The enemy, so to speak. And yet, she could only think about the experience... the feeling of letting goof everything else and...

She couldn't help it any longer, and her curiosity got the best of her. Looking up at the High Table, she found her professor laughing with Professor Sinistra, a smile alight on his face. Her heart melted into a puddle of goo as she let herself eye him unabashedly, watching his movements. She noticed every detail, from the way he held his fork to the way he brushed the hair of out his eyes, knowing the feeling of those hands as they held her sweating body so closely to his own, moving as one, the tentacles of pleasure spreading through her body tantalizingly. The thought sent her legs quivering.

"Miss Granger," said a commanding tone from above. She tore herself away from Professor Snape and turned around, coming face to face with her head of house, Professor McGonagall. "I need you to come with me to my office." She looked at her sternly, her lips pulled tight against her teeth, turning them white.

Hermione tried to play it off smoothly. "What for, Professor?" She smiled, not allowing any worry betray her features.

"We need to discuss your recent bout of rule-breaking," she said sharply. She eyed Ron sitting next to her, saying, "And Mr. Weasley, you as well. I will send for you shortly." With that, she turned around and began walking briskly towards the exit of the hall.

Hermione quickly stood up and followed suit, feeling as if she was going to be sick. Could McGonagall _know_?

**(Chap. Title is by the Beatles)**


	14. Pay For What You Get

**Chapter 14:  
Pay For What You Get**

Professor McGonagall's office was neatly kept. The room itself was circular, much like Professor Dumbledore's office, yet much smaller and less elegant, lacking the silver, smoke puffing trinkets and treasures, no past Headmasters looking on through their portraits. Instead they were replaced with shelving on either side of her desk–books upon books were organized perfectly in their rows upon the shelf. A large portrait of Godric Gryffindor was hanging behind the desk, clad in peeling scarlet and gold. The room was lit well from the inside, lanterns giving off a warm glow. Two straight-backed chairs faced the desk, and Hermione sat stiffly in one of them. If this were any other time in her life (and perhaps if the chairs were more plush), Hermione would have died to take a book off the shelf and curl up with it in this warm, comfortable room.

Yet, the circumstances were potentially far more dire than Hermione could have ever imagined. She had never been in Professor McGonagall's office before for punishment, alone. She had always had Harry and Ron by her side–they always seemed to commit their misdeeds as a unit, a trio of trouble. Now she was alone, fidgeting nervously, wondering if her Head of House had found out her new, deep secret.

She bit her lip. Hoping against hope, she blocked all of the lustful images of Professor Snape out of her mind, not wishing her thoughts to betray her in any way. Analyzing it in her head, there seemed to be no way that McGonagall could totally figure it out by herself. No one had concrete proof of it, so Hermione was forced to conclude that the only way that she would ever know was if Professor Snape had told her truthfully what had happened. She wanted to believe that Professor Snape would have the sense not to say anything about it, yet, there was no way to know for sure until...

"Miss Granger," said Professor McGonagall, striding into her office, taking her seat at her desk. Hermione immediately turned her attention to her, giving her the respect that she commanded from each and every student of Hogwarts. She fought very hard against the urge to fidget, but it was very important to not look guilty.

"I am sure you are not surprised as to why I've called you into my office," she began stiffly.

Hermione couldn't help her cheeks from turning rose-colored. She looked down at her lap and allowed Professor McGonagall to continue.

"In light of the past weeks' events, I can understand why you would be upset," she said, "but the way you are handling this is downright appalling; a disgrace to our noble House! I expected so much more from you, Hermione. You are such a bright student, such a good and wholesome person, and now I find out... from other professors, even... that you have the audacity to..." She stopped, her voice quaking with anger and disappointment. "Do you have anything to say for yourself?"

Hermione bit her lip and forced back the tears that came whenever the disappointment of others rained down upon her. "Professor, I..." she began, unable to find words to fit together coherently to explain herself. "I never planned for it to happen. I never wanted... well, I suppose I _did_ want it for that moment in time but... he... _encouraged_ me, really..."

Her professor merely shook her head, standing up and putting her hands on her hips in a such a way that she could have been replaced with Mrs. Weasley, who was nearly a mother to Hermione. "I could never have imagined you saying that, even to Professor Snape. I don't care how angry and emotional you were regarding whatever happened between Mr. Weasley and yourself..."

Hermione's head snapped up and forward. "Wait... you mean... when I swore at Professor Snape?"

"Yes, girl, what did you think I meant?" said Professor McGonagall irritably. "After noting your absence today in Transfiguration, a class you have never missed in all of your years at Hogwarts, and also your absences in Ancient Runes, I took it upon myself to investigate your new habit of slacking off and skipping classes by speaking with your Professors. Professor Snape spoke to me about your incident of three weeks ago in his class. Quite frankly, I'm surprised he didn't tell me sooner! That kind of language should never be leaving a young woman's lips, especially a young woman such as yourself, Miss Granger!"

Hermione tried her hardest to try and still be upset, yet her heart was uplifted and soaring. Professor McGonagall had no idea at all about what really had happened with Snape! She was, yet again, in the clear. Still, she needed to be cautious until their meeting was over. She bowed her head towards her lap again, saying quietly, "Yes, Professor."

"I am going to assign you two nights' detention," she said, scribbling upon a piece of parchment. "One night for your misbehavior with Professor Snape, and one for skipping your classes today."

Thanking her lucky stars that her Head of House did not know her true misbehavior with Snape, she calmly accepted her detentions, got up out of her seat, and turned to leave.

"Wait, Miss Granger," said Professor McGonagall abruptly. "We are not finished here." She flicked her wand towards the door, which opened. "Mr. Weasley!" she called out towards the door. Moments later, Hermione saw his familiar red hair bobbing in through the doorway. He shut the door politely behind him. He had a grin on his face as he took a seat next to Hermione, which was quashed the moment that Professor McGonagall looked at him with a stern look that would wipe the smirk off of even Peeves' mischievous face. "I had an interesting conversation with Madam Pomfrey this morning. What we spoke of brings me even more disappointment regarding certain students of my House. Those students are, invariably, you two."

Ron glanced over at Hermione quickly, who was simply staring into her lap dully. He spoke up, challenging her, "I haven't even been to Madam Pomfrey this term, Professor. I don't–"

"Silence, Mr. Weasley," she said, her temper flaring, along with her nostrils. "Nevertheless, she told me news of Miss Granger here, coming to the Hospital Wing for a particular potion to help her cope with pains due to a particular... _experience... _that is banned at here at Hogwarts–one of my longest standing rules."

Ron still looked confused as ever. Trying his damnedest to try and put two and two together, he said, "But wait, Professor. You can't _ban_ girls from having their... you know..."–he dropped his voice to a whisper–"_monthly time."_

Professor McGonagall stared at Ron, her jaw threatening to drop at the absurdity of this statement. Shaking her head, she simply shrilled, "Intercourse!"

The two students in front of her turned bright red upon hearing the taboo word coming from the elder woman's mouth. It seemed truly unnatural and wrong for her to speak of the act in such a way. Or at all, for that matter. Ron shook off the awkwardness and tried to make some kind of contact with Hermione, who was now actively ignoring his presence by staring straight in front of her, locking eyes with the portrait of Godric Gryffindor ahead of her, who stared back, absentmindedly sharpening his sword.

"As you both know," she continued, "I have set rules in place to prevent students from focusing on that particular vice while they are in this school and not of age. This, clearly, does not stop you two from breaking this rule every chance you get! Even yesterday, Mr. Filch notifies me that he remembers seeing you two running into a classroom together! Such disregard for such an important standard we hold here at Hogwarts!"

"But, Professor, honestly, we only snogged yesterday," he said, amazed that the words were even coming from his mouth in Professor McGonagall's esteemed presence. "As in, we didn't..."

And suddenly, the look of dawning arose upon Ron's face. It was becoming clearer and clearer, and as Hermione glanced up at him quickly, she saw his features contorted in deep thought. Realization set in on both of the students, and suddenly Ron scoffed, saying, "Pomfrey's got it all wrong, she's _got_ to," he said, standing up, stuffing his hands in his pockets, clearly in the first shades of denial. "Hermione couldn't have gone down there _for that_ today... we didn't... yesterday. Couldn't possibly be."

Hermione felt completely lost at what she could possibly do now. She stared frantically around the room, only to catch Professor McGonagall's facial expression, jaw dropped with hand to her mouth. "Mr. Weasley... I–I apologize for calling you down here. I... well, we always keep a wary eye on those that date in the school for this..."

Ron's ears began turning deep scarlet, and he kept his hands tightly shoved into his pocket. Hermione guessed that he kept them in his pockets so as not to show his clenching fists. His teeth, already clenched, gave him away. Professor McGonagall looked shocked and appalled, with a tinge of apology hinted in her features, doubtlessly for Ron. She brought him down here, when clearly, he was not the culprit... they were not acting as a team in this escapade. Hermione had, quite literally, found another partner in crime.

The silence and tension were sky high, and Ron looked as if he were a bomb about to go off at the slightest provocation. Hermione had guilty tears in her eyes. Their professor finally said, "Ronald, you are... dismissed."

With a last scathing look at Hermione, he turned on his heel in a huff, and walked out of the room, not caring to shut the door quietly behind him.

Hermione was now crying in full-force, and Professor McGonagall simply stared. "I–"

"It is not my place to negotiate in the sordid affairs of the... sex lives... of the students here," said Professor McGonagall, cutting her off before she could stumble upon her explanations. "Your behavior has been and is inconsistent with the rules here. If this continues, I can take away your status as Head Girl. You need to sort out your priorities, Miss Granger. Get your act together." With that, Professor McGonagall turned her back on the girl.

With that blatant dismissal, the girl walked out of the room, her eyes red and swollen. As soon as she was out in the corridor, she let the tears flow freely. It was not supposed to happen this way... she did not even have a chance to explain herself. Sure, as a student, she was completely out of bounds. Sleeping with a professor could not possibly be 'consistent with the rules'. However, she was not out of her bounds as a person... she was not _cheating_ on Ron. If only she could explain herself...

THUD!

"Oh, I'm so sorry!" Hermione sniffled at the person she had just ran headlong into from the floor, after being knocked off of her feet. Tears still blurred her vision, and her depth of thought clearly was enough to debilitate her ability to _not _walk into people.

"Don't be," said a silky, dark voice from quite far above her.

Her heart smashed into her sternum as she instantly recognized the voice, and yet, her feelings were being torn in absolute opposite directions. This was the man that took her breath away simply by existing, and, yet, he also helped kill any possibility of Hermione and Ron's relationship from every blooming again... also by existing (and also by agreeing wholeheartedly to a girl's illicit sexual fantasies). She wiped her tears away and saw that he had thrust out his hand towards her to help her for the second time in the same day. She took it, and found that his hand lingered upon hers before he let go, and they went about their separate directions. The thought did give her a minute bit of satisfaction as she dawdled through the halls, until she came upon the portrait hole to Gryffindor tower. Ron had, apparently, been waiting for her to come back. His eyes were as red as his ears, even giving his hair a run for its money.

"Talk..." was all he was able to muster through all his anger. "We talk _now_."

**(Chap. Title is by Dave Matthews Band)**


	15. The New Version of You

**Chapter 15:  
The New Version of You**

They stood at opposite sides of the room; whether it was for their own safety or because neither of them wanted to be within the same vicinity of each other was the real question. Hermione had her wand out in a defensive position in front of her body, and Ron was pacing back and forth, his fists in his hair, scrunching it angrily. He was beside himself with rage. He looked at if he was fighting the urge to lunge at her and force what he wanted to hear out of her physically.

"Ron, before we talk, you need to calm down," said Hermione, her wand still out cautiously. She stared directly into his eyes, meeting his cold, unforgiving glare.

"No!" he said furiously, breaking their contact. "You need to tell me what in bloody_ hell_ happened yesterday before I go berserk! I can't understand why you'd..." Faltering, he let out another yell of frustration.

"I told you already, Ron," she said in a firm tone, "We weren't dating..."

"We snogged! Last time I checked, that was something you did when you dated someone!" he said, throwing his hands into the air, glaring at her. "So either you did... IT... before we snogged... or after... either way, you..." She saw him turn away from her, and felt the tiniest pang of guilt as he lifted a trembling hand to his face, doubtlessly to wipe the tears that were coming forth from his angry eyes. "You're unbelievable... I _never _thought that you'd do something like... like... not in a million years..."

"You never gave me a chance to say no to you, Ron!" she shrilled. "You grabbed me and snogged me, I had no say!"

"You didn't seem to mind it so much afterwards! We had made plans, Hermione...!" Again, his fists were balled in his angry red hair, and he made a noise of such intense anger and hurt that Hermione raised her wand arm even higher, guiltily so. "And you lied... you said it was your period. Who's lying now?" Once again, he could not bear looking at her, and he turned, bracing his hands against the wall as though the room was a swaying ship in a monsoon, and it was all he could do to keep steady on his feet. He shuddered and his voice quavered, almost giving it an air of tenderness, "You dump me for hiding the Lavender thing, and I _understood_ you... I _got_ that, Hermione..." Another shudder, and the anger flashed back as he turned to face her, trying his hardest to look at her, "You didn't need to bash it into my brains by screwing someone else... I read you loud and fucking clear without you whoring yourself..."

Hermione, looking scandalized, said, "I did not _whore_ myself, you–"

All safety and distance thrown aside, he stalked over to her and towered over her. "You screwed someone on a whim, that's rather whore-like–"

His ferocious nature was not something that Hermione was afraid of, in the moment. "How do you know it was a _whim_?! What do you even know about the past three weeks of my life, Ronald!?" Now, Hermione was angry. Being called a whore was not something that she could tolerate, no matter how in the wrong she may have been–she was not a whore. Perhaps deceitful, perhaps awfully attracted to men out of her league (and age group), but not a whore.

"I would have heard about it if you were dating someone..." he muttered. "I'm not an idiot, Hermione. Gossip travels like wildfire in this school, I would have known about it, everyone would have... _you_... the you I used to know... you would never just _do_ that..." A flicker of hope glided across his features. "But you are very good at keeping secrets... and... and... perhaps it was _just_ a fling... right, Hermione?" She could tell by his face that he was nearly convinced of her innocence in the situation... that it was simply a mistake.

_Not likely this one..._ she thought to herself. She knew what was coming next. It was the question that she had been dreading ever since she walked out of Professor Snape's office yesterday. She just never thought it would come upon her this fast. As their eyes met again, an understanding dawned upon him, and she revealed, without even realizing it, her innermost feelings on the subject of her affair. She could see the anger begin to radiate from her person once again.

"Who was it?" he asked in a falsely calm voice. "Who's the lucky bastard that got my girl?"

Hermione shook her head, saying, "It isn't like that. Can't you understand at least that you and I, we weren't together. I'm perfectly within my rights, here!" With a deep breath, she said the words that truly severed their relationship. "I'm not your girl, Ron."

Ron closed his eyes and simply refused to acknowledge her statement. "Tell me who!"

Hermione's eyes shifted around the room of their own accord, their gaze wishing to be anywhere other than on the eyes of Ronald Weasley.

"I can't."

Ron let out another yell of fury, which, coming out of the dead silence, shook Hermione to her very soul. "Don't you realize that I can find out? I will ask every single male student in this school that has ever so much as _looked_ at you and get the truth from him."

"Fine," she said, knowing in her heart of hearts that there was not a student of Hogwarts that could give him the answer he wanted to hear. Not a _student_...

"So... that's it then?" he said, breathing heavily, looking at a space directly behind Hermione's shoulder, so as not to look at her.

"It is until you pull your head out of your ass and realize you are going to make a fool out of the both of us," she said, shaking her head at him.

This seemed to hit him harder than she had anticipated. "What do you mean, fool out of both of us? You were the one that screwed up here! Literally!"

"I'm not ashamed of what I did," she said. "I had no idea how to tell you, and I never planned on you finding out. And it was probably a one time thing, Ron. He wouldn't--"

"What do you mean, _probably_?" he said, his anger rising to a peak once again. "Probably, as in you might do it again? As in you are willing to slut yourself to this man on a regular basis?!"

SMACK! A nasty welt lay across Ron's face in the exact shape of Hermione's small hand. She stood on her toes to get her face into his, prodding his chest as she spoke. _"He made me feel things that I've __**never **__felt from you!_"

With that, Hermione left the room in a hurry, leaving Ron and his stinging face to his equally stinging thoughts to simmer inside of his mind.

**(Chap. Title is by Reel Big Fish)**


	16. Touch Me

**Chapter 16:  
Touch Me**

It was all out of the table, now. Hermione had admitted it to the one person that she never wanted to admit her growing crush on Severus Snape to–her ex-boyfriend. She had real feelings for him... feelings that he himself had caused to grow and mutate inside of her mind and soul... feelings that made her justify her sex with him as something not necessarily borne out of lust. These feelings ultimately made her crave time to pass faster... she wanted Friday night at eight o'clock to come faster than time would permit.

Meanwhile, rumor had it that Ron was in a rage unheard of from a Gryffindor in a very long time. He had even confronted Harry about the Hermione situation, which nearly ended their own friendship. So far, Ron had interrogated the whole of Gryffindor house from the fourth year up and had moved onto the Ravenclaws boys. Due to this, Hermione found that people were staring at her blatantly. She ignored it. Even Ginny and she were not speaking often to each other, and whenever Ginny tried to approach her about it in the friendliest of ways, Hermione only gave her the same answer, "I'm not ready to talk about it yet."

Because she was being watched so harshly by her peers, her chances to watch her favorite professor during class or mealtimes became extraordinarily limited. She noticed that he stopped calling her out in class, as he usually did. In a certain way, this worried her greatly. She found the harsh words that used to hurt her on a daily basis in his class to somehow become a link between the two of them, a link that she looked upon in a positive manner. Now, he was actually letting her ask questions and answer them without a snide remark passing through his lips. What was even more surprising was that he was not belittling any of his usual targets, save Harry and (especially) Ron, who now seemed to take on the full harassment load in their class, now. At any other point in her academic career at Hogwarts, she would have admired the man for giving her and her classmates a chance–now, it only made her increasingly riddled with confusion.

The only contact outside of the classroom that they did have was purely by happenstance, as far as Hermione knew. It was her night, as Head Girl, to patrol the hallways around the Great Hall, library, and Gryffindor Tower. She hated patrolling so late at night, because it was typically very dull work. The only people she caught illicitly roaming the halls were either practical jokesters, trying to follow in Fred and George Weasleys footsteps, or enamored couples trying to get into a shady corner or find an unlocked classroom to share together. This particular night, however, she was in for a surprise that would send her heart reeling.

She turned the corner to the library, only to see a tall someone, shaded in the shadows, locking up the door to the library, and carrying an enormous volume under his or her arm.

"Hey, you!" she called, her lit wand pointed at the person at the ready as she made her approach. "It's after hours, you can't–"

The figure chuckled in deep tones softly, making goosebumps fly up her body and her heart beat rapidly. She didn't need to light the man's face to know precisely who he was.

"Oh, erm... my apologies, Professor," she said softly, lowering her wand after from him, letting her eyes adjust to the dimness. The silence between them was awkward and tense.

"It is not a problem, Miss Granger," he said, finally, as if he simply did not _know_ how to respond to her apology. "I was simply picking up a book to read for pleasure."

Her knees gave a small shake, even at the innocent tone of his voice saying the word 'pleasure'. She gave a nod and stared at her feet out of habit, even though she knew that the darkness would hide her embarrassment. "Well, I've got to, you know... get back to my watch. So..." She turned away from him without another word, her heart pounding and begging for the two to embrace... to feel those deft hands undoing the clasps of her robes in a hurry, to feel his skin against her own...

"Goodnight, Miss Granger," he said from behind her. "Until Friday, then."

And true enough, their innocent hallway encounter made her ache for Friday to come even faster. It would be a time that they could be alone together, expressing their real feelings to each other.

-oooooooooooooooooooo-

Her heart throbbed with increasing intensity as she walked briskly towards his office. She became so acutely aware of her surroundings in light of the desire that pulsed through her veins, skin, muscles... her very aura was alight with the prospect that lay ahead of her. She could feel the way her body moved as she walked... she noticed the subtle sway of her own hips and the way she swung her arms as she strode along. The feeling of sweat on her palms was unnerving, yet she did not seem to care about the idea of sweating if it meant exerting herself upon her Professor's body...

She could barely contain herself as she finally stepped in front of the door to his office. She knocked on the door quietly, checking her watch and seeing that the second-hand was moments away from noting eight o'clock on the dot. Her stomach churned nervously as she heard shuffling from behind the door. The handle began clicking open. Hermione could see his hands twisting the knob of the door in her mind's eye, and then it opened. She tried to keep her composure as she gazed up into her professor's dark eyes.

"Come in," he said simply in his silkiest tones. Hermione obliged, walking into the office that had become so familiar to her, now. She could not help but stare at her professor, who was dressed quite differently than any other time she had ever seen him previously. He had on his now characteristic black slacks, slacks that, she could freely notice, clung to his frame very nicely, enhancing his aesthetic assets. He wore a darker green shirt, rolled up at the sleeves. The shade of green brought out the softer brown hues in his eyes and made his skin look less pallid. His hair was combed and parted nearly perfectly, with a few strands straying onto his face, catching on his pronounced nose every so often. Hermione felt a sudden jolt of realization–he had gone out of his way to look so wonderful for her, and yet, all she could do was wear her school clothes from earlier in the day.

Then, they found themselves facing each other. He had his hands in his pockets, and she looked up into his face, trying to read what lay behind his eyes. She broke the silence by saying, "So... an exchange of explanations?" She chuckled after saying this, kicking herself inwardly for sounding like such a child. She sighed and awaited his slow to come response. The corner of his mouth twitched into a smile.

"I wonder," he said slowly, choosing his words in a meticulous manner, nodding, "Yes, I do wonder how one day, you are a foul-mouthed girl, disrespecting me in _my_ classroom, calling me abominable things that absolutely ought not to be a part of any _lady__'__s_ vocabulary. An immature girl... bright, but incapable with dealing with her emotions in a way that would suit her."

Hermione, taken aback by his harshness, his blunt manner, had her jaw dropped unceremoniously. Her eyebrows began to scrunch in either anger or sadness. She opened her mouth to say something before Professor Snape cut her off again, taking a step away from her, beginning to pace.

"I wonder how days later, this very same person cannot bear to be in my presence without her knees quivering, and then, given the chance, she cannot bear to keep her hands off me... or her lips, for that matter..." He let his words hang in the air, creating a tension so thick it was almost visible to the naked eye. He noted that Hermione no longer had her mouth open. Instead, her eyes were rapt with attention, hungry for the truth.

"That night, Hermione," he began again, turning his back from her, speaking in a soft voice, "I was utterly out of my mind with confusion. I was in such a peculiar position in so many different ways that I felt like a fool, not knowing a way out of this place you've boxed me into. This place where I was unable to think properly or even breathe without realizing that in this very building, you existed..." She could see that even recalling the event wrought his face with confusion. "You surprised me with your actions that night... I was transformed into this blundering idiot, longing for that forbidden fruit that you gave me to taste, while, at the same time, knowing I would be a fool for wanting it."

Turning towards her, he stepped carefully over to her, saying, "Weeks later, I come to find that you have not tired of thinking about old, hook-nosed, greasy haired Professor Snape..." The tone of malice in his voice as he spoke of himself made his eyes glint with something volatile and angry.

"But–!" Hermione interjected, only to be cut off by his hand raising to her mouth, nearly close enough to touch her.

"_But_–" he said, drawing a finger to her lip slowly, "imagine my surprise when she, this girl that has sat in front of my lecture for nearly seven years, is desirous of me in ways which are quite... mature." He drew his finger across her lips and down to her neck, drawing her face upwards to look into his eyes. "You were flirtatious, and I needed to know what lay inside the hollows of your brilliant young mind. Penetrating your mind was illuminating, however, not so fulfilling as penetrating–"

Without a second thought, Hermione embraced her Professor with an unyielding ardor, pressing her lips to his and throwing her arms about his neck. She pressed against him roughly, passionately giving way to all of the fantasies and thoughts that had been running buck-wild through her mind for the past week. He adored the way he groaned as she caressed his neck with her lips, moving to his collarbone, fingering the button to his shirt, begging for it to become undone with every magical gene within her–sure enough, each button became undone in succession without her having to even touch them. She caressed his bare skin, relishing in his scent, kissing his collarbone, allowing her fingers to graze the fine path of hair along his stomach, leading down to an area that she wanted to get to know better, indeed.

In her ecstasy, she managed to push him against the desk that had served as their first bed. Recalling the horrific back pain that had stayed with him throughout the week after the encounter, he pulled away from her, saying, "Not here..."

"But...?" she questioned, her features dripping with excitement and arousal. Her lips were already dark pink from her sneak attack on him, and she still had her finger on the waistline of his trousers, threatening to move further down at any given moment. "Where could we..."

Snape thought fast and hard, coming up with only one safe solution...

"My chamber..." he said, staring down his young, lusty consort. Their gazes united for a brief moment, before the professor swept her nearly off of her feet and out of the office.

**(Chap. Title is by The Doors)**


	17. Grace

**Chapter 17:  
Grace**

As dangerous as it was for the illicitly drawn-together twosome to wander the cavernous corridors of Hogwarts together, trying their damnedest to keep their hands off of each other, the risk provided to be worth taking, after all. There was something absolutely irresistible in the way that he restlessly drew his wand out to unlock his door, and she immediately fell victim to the way he took her into the room so forcefully, as if he needed the touch of her skin, as if the only thing that could satiate his hunger for her was the feeling of his body enveloping hers as it writhed under him in fits of pleasure.

Within moments, Hermione was against the door--a now-familiar position that was as exhilarating as it was compromising. It had surprised her the first time her Potion's professor had pulled this on her, reading her mind and making her lustful wish come true–now it simply made her hot all over, begging for more. She let out a loud noise laced with pleasure, causing the man to momentarily cease his pursuits, taking out his wand while muttering the _Muffliato _curse under his breath. Hermione suppressed the momentary thought of Harry and Ron, who cast the curse often during their exploits, focusing her attention upon the dark eyes that slyly seduced her daily.

Her robes were shed, and she was down to her traditional skirt and button-down collared shirt. Again, she found herself magically undoing his shirt, and as soon as it was unbuttoned, she ran her hands greedily along his chest and stomach, eventually pushing the shirt off of his shoulders, down his arms, and off, the soft material falling to the floor. She let her hands wander about his body as they possessed each others mouths fervently. As she finally allowed her hand to graze the protrusion at the front of his trousers, he let out a surprised gasp, which rang in Hermione's ears over and over. Her eyes closed in pleasure as he sank to his knees, proceeding to unbutton her shirt.

And with every patch of bare skin left, he would kiss and caress with his lips and hands. Some kisses were soft and delicate, others were hungry and desirous, yet all were pleasing to the girl against the door. She found her hands stroking his hair as his lips touched the skin upon her stomach. His hands slid around her body and held her tightly, and he laid his head against her breasts, letting out a sigh that he seemed to be holding for a lifetime. He murmured her name softly, and the overwhelming tenderness that he exuded penetrated into her very soul.

He lifted her with ease and carried her over to his bed. In one movement, he laid her down and was immediately braced over her, kissing her, and letting her arms wrap around him. He allowed himself to sink down towards her, making their kiss deeper. Kissing in bed was a different experience, and they relished in it, taking their time to feel their bodies pressed so closely together, from their lips all the way down to their entwined legs.

Neither of them spoke, but a certain feeling and tension descended upon them. The kissing became secondary as they fumbled with clasps, buttons, zippers, and material–becoming very naked was priority number one. Once they were, they became very tentative, even shy, as Adam and Eve were in Eden when they first perceived each other to be nude. Even the kissing had subsided, and awkwardness threatened to set in. Hermione looked up into his eyes, her curiosity and innocence shining forth, and he couldn't help but realize that it was so reminiscent of when her hand would dart up in class, so interested... so desiring to know even _more_...

It was like their previous encounter in his office had never happened. As they faced each other, he took her hand and pulled her closer, eventually placing her hand onto his chest–a perfect place for her to begin her exploration. He found his hand following the natural curve of her body, savoring in every moment and feeling. Slowly, they grew accustomed to this new feeling shared between the two of them, and their bodies came closer and closer together, until finally, they were touching.

And how desire came crushing back onto their bodies, their curiosity suddenly insatiable. The feeling of pure skin on skin was too much to bear, they simply _needed_ more of each other. Hermione and her Professor hugged each other tightly as their voracious appetite for each other raged on, their lips unable to leave each other, their tongues unable to keep from touching... she found herself wrapping her leg around him, and upon feeling this, he obliged. Taking control, he moved atop her, her legs quivering on either side of his body. He leaned over her, bracing himself carefully, and they were face to face, nearly close enough to share a kiss.

As he dove into her warmth and felt their bodies curling together as one, they found bliss within each other. They held onto each other so tightly, it was almost as if they were trying to melt right into each other. When their lips weren't preoccupied with kissing each and every inch of precious flesh, they were vociferous in expressing their pleasure. Hermione could see that her professor was caught between trying to control his body, to make the moment last, and just letting his passions loose, abandoning precedent, and allowing himself to enjoy the moment fully.

She arched her back and writhed with pleasure, her eyes shut tight with wonder and ecstasy. At the foot of the bed, she found her toes curling up involuntarily, and she wondered how much longer she could hold on before it became too much for her. Through half-shut eyes, she eyed her professor as he towered over her, effectively taking her over–she couldn't help but smile as their eyes locked. "Oh, _Severus_..." she said through a low moan coming from the depths of her.

His name upon her lips was enough to set him off to the point where all propriety (as much as one could apply in the situation) was done away with, and sudden virility and energy came forth, surprising Hermione, eliciting his name endlessly from her lips louder and louder each time, urging him on tirelessly.

It was then that nothing mattered. It did not matter that he was professor and she was the student. There was no importance in their difference in age. Why did it matter that Ron, or anyone, thought she was a whore, she knew better, this was real! And why should something like this, something that felt so incredibly dead-on _right_ effect his career? It _didn't_ matter that, on their way his chamber, Ginny Weasley had spotted them, even called out to Hermione, who did not seem to hear her as she gave his hand a squeeze. Why did it matter that Professor McGonagall had heard the rumor of certain professors having illicit relations with students, questioning him straightaway. How could this _be _illicit... how could two people so perfectly suited to each other be a wrongdoing?

In this moment, the only correct answer was each other, and so they clung to it, even at the finish and after, they clung, his voice speaking her name so delicately, reminding her that the night was yet so young.

**(Chap. Title is by Kate Havnevik)**

**a/n: any fellow grey's fans, this song is the tune that is in the background at the prom episode of the second season (the last ep) during when derek and meredith are getting together in an empty room... also during when denny dies. i thought it was pretty perfect for this chapter. dunno if anyone agrees. **


	18. Underneath It All

**A/N: Hey all--I think I ought to clarify this (you'll probably all flay me for doing this at this point) but i think it is pretty obvious. This story takes place in the trios ACTUAL 7th year at Hogwarts after Voldemort has been vanquished (to be more clear, they are going back to Hogwarts to finish their education). Dumbledore and Snape are clearly very much alive... And naturally, Snape has got his reprieve, so he isnt all dark and twisted... well, not as much :)**

**please, keep on enjoying, and i appreciate all reviews!  
**

**Chapter 18:**

**Underneath It All**

The sun's morning rays wound its way through each crack, crevice, and window upon the castle of Hogwarts. Each extension of brightness and warmth crept into the minute spaces between the drapery and blinds, exposing the brand new day to all of those living inside of those walls. Still, the students had four-poster beds, and, as it was Saturday morning, their hangings were drawn tightly–there were no classes... no reason to waken from the precious slumber. The innocence and imagination that lay behind nearly each and every sleeping student was something that Professor McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress of Hogwarts and Head of Gryffindor House, found to be a treasure, unbeknownst to the students themselves.

And while the students slept deeply into the morning, she found herself wide awake, standing beside the door of the Headmaster's office, unable to decide if she ought to approach him regarding serious situation that had blown up in front of her face. Sleep had been elusive to her that night, and, she noted, as the sun shone brightly into the corridor through the enormous window to her right, not even the dark hangings of her bed pulled tightly as possible could have induced it. Her face taut with a mixture of worry and pity, Professor McGonagall spoke the Headmaster's password, the door opening immediately to welcome her, as if it had been expecting to see her sometime soon.

-ooooooooooooooooooooooooooo-

For all who were careless about leaving their blinds and hangings open the night before, the sun was merciless on this Saturday morning. The brightness, as unpleasant as it was upon first waking up, brought with it warmth, which, upon the skin, was most gratifying. Hermione, upon waking from her deep somnolence, first felt the warmth upon her face, and then open her eyes to the piercing brightness. It gave her the momentary illusion of blindness, and when it dissipated, her mind adjusted to her surroundings. Last night came back to her as easily as recalling her favorite childhood memory, and she sighed deeply into the pillow that her head had been resting on only seconds before. She stretched her body out, and she reacted agreeably to the pleasant pulling upon her muscles, which were tense and aching from the night before.

As she stretched her legs, she brushed up against the man sleeping next to her, and her heart fluttered. She wanted to turn to face him, and yet, an apprehension gripped her before she could do so. What would happen once he woke? Did he expect her to leave when she woke from her deep sleep? Was he even still sleeping, or was he waiting for her side of their little 'exchange of explanations', the part she _didn't _get to say before they went off and had their wild night.

Her curiosity got the better of her, and she shifted her weight carefully, turning to face him. With a small inward sigh of relief, she found that he was still sleeping. He was turned to face her, the covers drawn over half of his body, and his eyelids drawn over his eyes fully. He breathed deeply, snored softly, and Hermione wondered how someone with such a great obtrusive nose could manage to keep the snores to a minimum. She noticed, for the first time during their encounters, the small wrinkles that were sprinkled upon his face. The deepest ones were about his brow–probably from the amount of time he spent frowning. His skin looked rougher, more aged–you could tell from the lines around his eyes that he had seen so much _more_ in his life. His experience was woven throughout his features, in every crease and line upon his face. Hermione couldn't stop her hand from touching her own face, feeling her smooth skin–without a wrinkle or indentation--experience had not yet made its mark upon her face. She felt unbearably young.

Yet, she was drawn in to him, age notwithstanding. He had been one of the rudest people she had ever encountered, and yet, he had made her _feel_. He was not the same spiteful Professor Snape from the first detention up until that very moment. Yes, he had belittled her, seemingly as usual, but with a small glint in his eye–a small, nearly imperceptible change in tone in his voice. It was something that she could only _truly_ pick up. She had interfered with his usual negativity, she was something that came between all of his anger and hatred.

She was bold... _too_ bold–Gryffindor bold, on the night of the detention, where she had kissed him in ways she had never kissed another person. Hermione tried to recall her thought processes, but they were so haphazard that night, she was pretty much acting without thinking. She found it pleased her. For once, she did not analyze each and every detail, at least, not until she was in her room alone with her thoughts.

What was more, it pleased _him_. She was wanted! He had even admitted his desire for her... his confusion at her actions and how he longed for more... she felt like something more than a simple girl that had ambition but lacked the passion. For the first time, she had felt like a woman, and it was a power rush... Instead of feeling small with a yearn to be taken care of, as she did with Ron, something of independence and strength came to her as soon as Severus' lips touched her own. She commanded the emotions of a man that was her superior... and yet...

Hermione nearly jumped out of her skin as Severus shifted his body suddenly, so that he was laying upright upon his back.

"Stop staring," he muttered groggily. Hermione gasped and immediately turned away, pulling more covers over her body. He opened one of his eyes to see the girl looking worried, her cheeks bright red. "Oh, you can't be serious..." he said, turning his head to the side.

"I'm s-sorry, sir," she said timidly. "I didn't mean to watch–"

The man groaned as he stretched his arms out over his head, saying, "Alright, Hermione, I'm making a few new rules." He turned to face her, propping himself up on his arms and looking at her through sleep-worn eyes. "Firstly, stop cowering and going all red like that as if I'm going to hit you, it doesn't suit you. I very much prefer the Hermione that has the audacity to kiss a professor in detention."

Hermione's jaw dropped momentarily, and then she picked it up, a look of smirking defiance crossing her face. "And what else?"

Severus smirked back at her, "Next, no more calling me 'sir'. I mean, obviously in class, you can't go around calling me Severus, but..."

"Kind of makes you feel like we're breaking some rules," she said, sneakily, "when you put it like that, anyway."

He raised his eyebrow at her and then said, "Last rule–"

"Ah, wait, I think I know this one," said Hermione, edging herself closer to him, letting the covers free of her body. "Always, every morning that you wake up, find Severus' tickle spot right by his ribs and–!!"

In a flash, she went to snag a tickle at his ribs. Just as quickly, his free hand darted out and grabbed her wrist before it could make contact. He glared at her, and she couldn't help the redness in her cheeks as it flushed into her face.

"Last rule, I am _not _Mr. Weasley, nor am I a replacement," he said very seriously. "You and I, we are not a _couple _in the sense that you want it to be. It would be impossible, and so, you must understand that it _cannot_ be all of that happy-go-lucky, teenage "perfect" namby-pamby that people your age seem to go on about. There will be no finding of any ticklish spots on my body, EVER. And... I can't be your boyfriend. I'm not, well... a _boy_."

"Professor, I beg to differ," said Hermione, sniggering. "The part that makes me a girl can testify against your boyness."

"You know precisely what I mean," he said, trying his best to be serious, though the girl's playfulness made this rather difficult. "My age makes this impossible... my position here makes it impossible. Understand that we cannot actually _be_ lovers or... I'm... at least twenty years older than you."

"Really, I had no idea," she said boldly, still unable to fully keep a straight face. "I mean, really, I thought you were, like, two years older than me or so." She scoffed at him playfully, saying, "I'm not an idiot. I knew what I was getting myself into..."

"Doubtful," he said, staring straight ahead of him. "It is a matter of situation and opportunity. Being young, you don't realize that there are literally _billions _of different ways that a single moment in time can actually turn out. It just so happened that you were hurt, and in class, and acted out in anger. I gave you detention. Then... well..." he faltered, knowing that he did not actually understand why Hermione took this particular opportunity.

Hermione sighed, now also unable to look at her partner in the bed their had shared. "You are right... I didn't really understand what I was getting into during detention... it was an impulse. A strong impulse... a desire of such... _magnitude _that I'm rather sure I've never wanted anything so badly in that moment. You are correct in saying that it is a matter of happenstance, but..." She searched for the words, and found herself searching out her professor's eyes. She inched closer to him until they were just barely touching. "Am I wrong in thinking that both of us have at least benefitted from the way that this single situation turned out?"

"Pleasure is, oftentimes, as harmful as it is beneficial," he said cautiously, "and we _have _indulged..."

Deep down, she expected a cryptic answer such as this, coming from a person who was far too intelligent and seclusive to give his true feelings away all at once. And she couldn't help but reflect on the pleasure that she had found in her life... as a young child she found it in books, pulling her into a fantasy world where her imagination could soar. Every little red mark, indicating another top grade on a paper she particularly loved to research... the joy it did bring her, because success was pleasurable, something she looked upon fondly... Then her friends... meeting Harry and Ron, her first _true _friends... being able to be herself and explore... she loved the thrills that they had shared, as terrifying as it had been at the time.

There _was _harm in all that she took pleasure in, yet, she didn't see it as harm so much as a cycle of give-and-take... to have been a bookworm since she was a small child made her the butt of many jokes in her first primary school because all of the "cool" kids had video games to keep them occupied. The same went for her love of school, studies, and success... she often put that before things like friendship and being silly... and she did not know of what it was like to 'be a kid' in that sense. Meeting Harry and Ron especially had its costs... how many times had their lives been in danger? How many times had she seen pain, misery, and death trying to fight for the good side, trying and sometimes failing. Yet, it never stopped her, because she truly believed in those things that she _loved_...

She glanced at her professor, laying there, shirtless, staring back at her inquisitive face, his eyebrows ever so slightly raised... Hermione couldn't help but grin at him, his characteristic face, so unreadable... all of his emotions tucked behind it so expertly that it was amusing to her. How could a man that could put on a facade of something so seemingly cold and uncaring when hours before, he was clinging to her, whispering her name into her ears with tenderness, stroking her cheek as they laid next to each other falling asleep.

"I believe that _this_... this situation," began Hermione slowly, keeping her eye contact as she slid her body next to him, "is one of those times where the pleasure significantly outweighs the harm..." She brought a hand to his face–another bold, though caring, gesture. Half-expecting him to bring her hand away, she touched the side of his face, brushing his long, dark hair from his eyes.

There was no recoil, and some of the impassivity in his eyes evaporated as he bore deep into hers. He shifted his eyes away momentarily, and the air of discomfort settled around him. Clearly, being handled gently by a woman was something he did not encounter often. He finally found words, saying, "Hermione, you are so naive, it is–"

Hermione moved in, simultaneously bridging the gap between them and silencing him, as she kissed him so gently.

Despite being thirty-nine years old, with all of the experience with women that a grown man of his stature could have, he found that this particular kiss from this particular female temporarily stripped him of this experience, leaving him exposed and vulnerable to her goodness. He let the girl, naive as she was, be correct in her findings that in this moment, there was nothing better than for their lips to be pressed together so gently.

As they slunk into the bed once more, they fell back into the world that only they could share together. As their bodies became a tangle of trembling limbs, skin, and sweat, they could not envision that at this very moment, outside of the room that was their sanctuary, Ginny Weasley stood with her hand on the doorknob, biting her lip painfully.

**(Chap. Title is by No Doubt)**


	19. Bad Moon Rising

**Chapter 19:  
Bad Moon Rising**

Ginny had been pacing in front of the Potion Master's personal chamber, right outside of the door that she had seen him steal Hermione into the previous night. It was then that her worst suspicions had come to fruition–she had heard Hermione's pleasured cry from the other side of the door, and then... pure silence. She knew that there were charms you could cast that would make noise impenetrable to the world around them, and a smart man such a Professor Snape ought to know how to do such charms.

_Too bad he didn't remember during their first jaunt..._ thought Ginny disgustedly, recalling the time she overheard the two going at it in his office. It had never occurred to her that Hermione would do such a thing as sleep with her professor. Hermione _always_ did something with purpose–there was a reason behind every breath she took, every move she made throughout all of the time that Ginny had known her. It couldn't have been for the love of Potions, and certainly it wasn't because she _needed_ to get ahead in his class; she had the highest marks the whole seven years she had been here, according to her older brother. There was no reason, and yet, when she saw the two last night, she looked more willing to be with that man than she ever had before–it didn't take long for Ginny to put two and two together.

She had spent the night under Harry's cloak in front of the door, keeping a wary eye to intercept Hermione as she left. Yet, the door had not budged all night, and no one, not Hermione nor Snape, left the room. The silence behind the door unnerved her–even though she was extraordinarily glad to have never had heard Professor Snape in the throes, so to speak, she was upset that she could not tell when they would be coming out.

As morning descended upon the school, Ginny realized there was next to no time left, and that she would have to intervene. Hermione still had not left the chamber, and if she didn't soon, her days at Hogwarts as a student would become severely limited. She needed to get away from Professor Snape immediately. Ginny was not the only person to witness with who and where Hermione spent the night...

-oooooooooooooooooooooooooooo-

Ginny was sitting outside of the Great Hall at a little past eight on Friday night at the end on one of the low banisters of the main staircase. She seemed to have been alone, just sitting there minding her own business, but it was all deception. Harry was under his Invisibility Cloak on the banister across from her, waiting for the last person to file out from the Great Hall, so they could sneak out of the back door and onto the grounds. Ginny could not see Harry, but she could feel his presence, and smiled at the seemingly empty space across from her.

Looking over her shoulder, only a few students were left in the Great Hall, lagging along and looking to get some last minute desserts–it was no surprise that two of those students were Crabbe and Goyle. Ginny scoffed, saying, "Nasty big gits..." as they passed by. She followed them silently up the staircase, making fun of their big food-loving bellies by holding her arms out in a circle in front of her and pretending to wobble from side to side. She heard Harry trying to laugh as quietly as possible, though to no avail. Thankfully, Crabbe and Goyle were too thick to look behind and see where the voice was coming from.

Harry eyed her from his spot at the bottom of the stairs, and found that something had caught her attention and held her fast. He crept up the stairs, but suddenly, she held a hand out behind her, motioning for him to come no further. Ginny traveled to the top of the staircase, and put her hand over her mouth, her head following hurried footsteps. She did not notice that Harry, too, had seen the exact same sight that she had, for he was still cloaked, not adhering to her plea for him to stay at the bottom of the stairs.

Hermione, clearly, was being led by Professor Snape, up the flights of stairs, only to disappear behind a secret passage that Harry and Ginny frequently used to hide themselves until the coast was clear. Ginny muttered, "No, no... can't be... she can't be her... not Hermione..."

Ginny ran up to the secret hideaway and called for her, but it was to no avail. Either she did not hear or did not wish to hear, and suddenly it wasn't hard for her to realize that Hermione, in fact, _was_ the girl in Professor Snape's office. The Gryffindor Quidditch team had heard _her_ voice, passionately calling out to her lover... _Snape_...

Before long, she heard Harry's light footsteps running along the corridor behind of her, still under the cloak.

"Harry, no!" yelled Ginny, as she saw his footsteps bunching the rug beneath his feet from twenty feet away, beating a path towards Gryffindor Tower–towards Ron. "Harry, if you tell him, he'll go berserk! Please, for all of our sakes!"

Harry kept running, panting out to his girlfriend, who had swiftly caught up to him, "Look... I'm not... telling Ron, I'm going to Mc–McGonagall..." he said, finally slowing down once he reached her office.

"Promise you won't tell him," said Ginny, reaching out for the cloak and pulling it from Harry's figure, so that they could lock eyes, so he could see past his rage and into her reason. "Please? He can't hear this from you... he can't hear this from anyone. Ever!"

"It's disgusting," said Harry in an angry, though hushed, voice. "She is a traitor, a traitorous, lying–"

"She's human," said Ginny firmly, "and she is our friend. We can't go assuming–"

Harry held Ginny about the shoulders, saying in a disgusted tone, "She's shagging our professor, we have proof, we are _sure_. We've heard it happen once, it is about to happen again. It is _wrong_, Ginny, it is not legal!"

"Harry, your hatred for him is getting in the way of–"

"It isn't about how we hate him!" he said loudly. "It is about the fact that he is taking advantage of a student who doesn't know any better!"

Ginny shushed him, for his voice is carrying, and then said quietly, "Are you aware that we are talking about Hermione Granger, Harry? You know? The brightest fucking witch in your year?"

"He could have cast _Imperius_!" said Harry, fishing for anything that would work as an excuse. "That's right! She can't be going of her own will... the man isn't even hygienic, Ginny. Why would she ever... There are no reasons for her to do it."

"Take into consideration the teeny, tiny fact that, you know, most of the school hates him," said Ginny matter-of-factly. "And you are notorious for hating on him the hardest... if she did actually find interest in him, she wouldn't have ever told you!"

"So did she tell you, then?" said Harry, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

Ginny shifted her weight from side to side, reluctant to answer. "Well... no. She didn't..." There was a stab of jealousy and betrayal. Ginny and Hermione were as close as sisters, and yet, she could not even confide in her about her relations with the professor.

"It could be _Imperius_... Dark Magic... he's done it before, we know he can do it again. Just because Voldemort is gone doesn't make him a wholesome man! She could be in danger, Ginny," he said seriously. "I care about Hermione, and fine, I promise you that I won't tell Ron. I need to see McGonagall. She needs to know. She can put a stop to this!"

"Oh, Harry, alright," she said, shrugging, her intuition telling her that she was somehow betraying her best friend by letting him go. "Don't tell anyone else, either... I have a feeling this should stay under wraps."

"I agree," he said, turning his back on her and making his way up to McGonagall's office.

-oooooooooooooooooooooo-

Ginny paced back and forth in front of the door, angrily. She had half a mind to _Alohomora _the lock and barge right in, refusing to leave until she had Hermione with her. Then they could rush up to the Headmaster's office to head off McGonagall, Ginny could claim that Hermione was with her the entire night, and they would be in the clear. Harry would renounce his story, saying that he saw Professor Snape with someone else, and everything would go back to normal.

_If only... if only..._ she thought, pulling her wand out and taking aim at the old wrought-iron knob before her, whispering _Alohomora_ under her breath. She awaited the clicking noise that would indicate the unlocking of the door, yet none came. She should have known better than that–a simple spell would not be able to unlock to door into Professor Snape's personal chambers.

In a fit of panic and rage, she grabbed the handle and twisted. Instead of meeting the resistance that the lock _should_ have created, there was none–the doorknob twisted open. All that she needed to do, now, was push the door open, collect her uncharacteristically absentminded friend, and run up to Gryffindor Tower like the good little girls they clearly never could actually be.

Ginny braced herself for the ensuing awful possibilities of what she may see in front of her the very second that she opened the heavy wooden door. She closed her eyes and pushed the door open slowly.

Immediately, a wave of sound came smashing towards her, sounds that she had never heard in all of her existence as a Hogwarts student... sounds that she never wished to hear. Ginny begged for them to have heard the heavy door open, and yet they continued in their revelry. She dared not look up-the rustling of the sheets and the bed creaking noisily said it all, and she simply could _not_ look upon her very best friend in this act, especially not with her very least favorite teacher, Professor Snape, being her partner.

She put her hands over her ears to block out the sounds as best as possible, drew in a breath, and then yelled to her friend, "Hermione, you have to stop this now!"

**(Chap. Title is by Creedence Clearwater Revival)**


	20. Tearjerker

**Chapter 20:**

**Tearjerker**

To Hermione Granger, the world seemed to fall right out from under her body, and though her face was buried in the neck of her lover, she heard the third voice from within the room, calling out to her. Her heart began to pound maddeningly, almost so that it hurt in her chest, as if it were trying to tear itself away from her person entirely. The body that her arms were so lovingly entwined around had become as stiff as a corpse, unable to let out a single breath... utter a single sound.

The all too familiar voice called out again, and she couldn't help the tears that immediately began flowing from her eyes freely, the pink flushing her cheeks and making her hot all over–she was found out. _They_ were found out.

Her world seemed to move in ultra-slow motion, though in actuality, they were moving lightning fast. Her hands fumbled with the heavy blanket to cover her nudity, scrambling out of her professor's grasp. She finally turned her head to the figure she knew was at the door; seeing Ginny with her hands over her ears and her eyes shut tight made her feel dirty for the very first time throughout this whole fiasco. She approached the girl, tears streaming, and touched her upon the shoulder. Ginny looked up at her with a hodgepodge of fear, dread, disgust, pity, and anger in her eyes. Hermione could only return with her pleading, misty-eyed stare, words unable to coherently form in her mind.

Ginny stared at her trembling form, clad in nothing but a thick, dark blanket that smelled rather dank, her skin glowing red and glistening with sweat. Her shoulders were shaking with fear, and her face was wet with tears, her lip quivering. The sight tugged on Ginny's heartstrings more than she cared to admit, but there were more crucial things at hand than comfort presently.

"Hermione," spoke Ginny, "we need to get you out of here. We saw you last night, and–"

"W-w-we?" she stammered through tears. "Wh-who's we?"

Ginny sighed, knowing that the news of Harry seeing her with Snape would probably tear her to pieces, let alone the fact that he had actually _told_ on her. "Harry and I saw you two last night and he ran to tell McGonagall," she said quickly as Hermione's eyes widened in horror. "McGonagall could have already been to the Headmaster, but Harry is awfully sure that Dumbledore has only _just _come back to the school. You still have time to get yourself out of this if you come right now!"

Hermione's heart was tearing itself to pieces with every throb. "Oh, Ginny... I... I couldn't tell you–"

"It doesn't matter now," she said stonily. "Just pretend as if it didn't happen and everything can go back to normal."

"But...!" she said, for the first time drawing her attention back to the bed where she had laid moments before, comfortably in the arms of Severus Snape, who was presently pulling on a shirt with his back turned to the girls. "What about..." she begged, gesturing to him so widely that she almost lost the blanket that covered her. "I can't just..."

In a fit of confusion, she darted over to him, and he stood up, towering over her as she embraced him. He found his arms involuntarily moving to encircle her smaller body, and he couldn't help but shiver as he felt her hands graze his chest through the thin shirt he wore. He felt naked and exposed, helpless and confused. What could she possibly expect, what could she _want _from him, now?

"Oh, Severus," she cried, "Severus, I..." she sniffled and clutched at him harder, almost painfully, fearing for her very soul.

And as he went to comfort her, to stroke the crying girl's hair, he heard Ginny call to her, saying that there was no time, and she would be better to forget about it. Something inside of him hardened upon hearing the other girl's voice, and suddenly, he could not bear to touch the girl. He felt perverted and wronged, angry and stupid. It had all struck him that because of his weakness, his failure to cope with temptation, his utter idiocy, his life was about to be turned upside-down, his reputation shattered.

He looked down at Hermione with anger in his eyes, and as she beheld him, her eyes widened further, tears pooling in them. "Miss Granger, I think it is time that you left," he said, his voice icy and hateful.

Hermione shuddered at his tone, but persisted. "But Severus–"

"Do not call me that," he said evenly, spite clearly laced throughout each syllable. With that, he removed his arms from the girl and turned his back on her. His anger coursed through his veins faster and faster, and when he noticed that the girl stood sobbing harder, he said loudly, "Leave, Miss Granger!"

But Miss Granger could not, and she reached for his hand, grabbing it, saying, "I know this isn't the way it should be, I _know_–"

Throwing her hand aside forcefully while turning to face her, he said, "You know _nothing_, you insipid little girl!" he yelled, his face contorted into an ugly mask that she had not seen on him since she was the younger version of herself, cowering at her desk in Potions. "Now get out," he said in a deadly quiet, "before I throw you out myself."

Hermione's tears seemed to have stifled themselves, or else she had ran out of tears to cry with. She looked at her professor in disbelief, unable to comprehend how minutes ago, he was finally showing the sliver of compassion that resided in his soul, and presently, he was lashing out his hatred towards her harder than anything he had flung at any other human being. She backed away from him slowly and found that she was thankful that Ginny _was _there, staring at the man as if she wanted nothing more than to throw a javelin clear through his skull. Also, she had gathered Hermione's clothes up, giving them to her as she walked stiffly towards her, her expression absolutely unreadable.

"Come on," said Ginny softly, urging her to hurry, "get under the cloak, leave the blanket, and change while you walk."

Hermione obliged, and as she felt the light weight of the magical cloak envelop her, she let his blanket drop to the floor, stepping over it as she crossed the threshold of the door to his chamber without looking back.

Snape had turned to her just in time to see the small instep of her foot treading over the blanket that she had wrapped herself in before it, too, became invisible. He pushed away the small jolt in his heart that seeing the tiny bit of her flesh caused, and focused his attention on the red-headed girl, who was glaring at him with a fierceness that could only be rivaled by one other woman on Earth–her own mother. She shook her head at him as she guided her invisible friend out of the room, slamming the door shut behind her, leaving Snape alone with his anger, and worse, his thoughts.

-ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo-

Hermione felt the chill of the corridor upon every inch of her naked self and felt lost and vulnerable. She whispered to Ginny that she was going to change in a darkened corner; ducking behind a statue, she began pulling on her clothes quickly. Dressing was hard under the cloak, but it was only a matter of time before she realized that becoming fully-clothed was going to be harder than she realized.

She was missing her undergarments entirely.

She cursed under her breath, knowing very well that she couldn't go back into the man's room even if her life depended on it, let alone for a pair of panties, socks, and a brassiere.

"Ginny?" she called in a whisper. "I've got a bit of a problem!"

Ginny hurried over behind the statue, saying, "What is it?"

"I don't have any of my... underwear," she said, glad that her cloak covered her face since she was blushing so hard.

"Like..."

"It's all still in there, even my socks," she said with a sigh of exasperation.

Ginny let out a noise of frustration. "We don't have time to worry about this, you are just going to have to go without when we see the Headmaster."

Hermione protested, "I can't see the Headmaster being all naked under my skirt!"

"You saw it fit for Professor Snape to see you without the skirt at all," said Ginny, her arms crossed, sporting a slit-eyed stare. Hermione jumped to defend herself, but Ginny held up a hand saying, "Okay, that _was_ harsh, but we don't have time for this kind of thing! You will just have to grin and bear it for the time being."

Hermione sighed and had no choice but to agree, pulling her skirt on, followed by her shoes, finally taking the cloak off and fastening her outer robes all the way up to the top notch. She did not want to leave any stray marks that Snape may had left upon her body out in the open.

Ginny stowed the cloak into the bag she had been carrying, and then she said to Hermione, "Come on, if we can beat McGonagall to his office, then perhaps we can talk her down, tell her it was a huge mistake, and that Harry confronted you about it this morning and..."

"She won't believe it, she isn't an idiot," said Hermione, stifling a sniffle. "I'm sure she can put two and two together as Harry and you did..."

Ginny scoffed saying, "Maybe if you told your _best friend _about it, then I could have–"

"Can't you see why I couldn't tell you? You are Ron's brother! I couldn't tell you no matter who it may have been!" said Hermione in a high whisper. "You wanted us together as badly as the rest of your family, and I just..."

"It isn't about who gets together with who," said Ginny. "It's about being happy. You weren't happy with Ron, and he couldn't even tell you the truth about Lavender, and I saw why you were upset. But Hermione... what happened with you and..."

"Don't," said Hermione. "Please just don't say it right now." The girl's eyes were still full of tears that were threatening to spill over at any moment.

Ginny let out a sigh of relief. "You know, Hermione, regret is an awful feeling that we all feel from time to time, but it'll pass, just give it a few weeks and you'll be back to normal..."

"Ginny," she said very seriously, "I don't regret it... and normal is nowhere in my future."

The redhead bit her lip as she saw her friend staring stonily ahead as they made their way to the Headmaster's office quickly.

-oooooooooooooooooooo-

Severus Snape was a man that did not forgive easily. He was relentless to his students when their performance was sub-par, and he was savagely brutalizing to anyone that was unfortunate enough to be deemed his enemy. Friend was not a word that was contained in his vocabulary–why use such a personal term when 'colleague' or 'acquaintance' would suffice? The niceties of being a human being, such as being considerate and caring, were oftentimes a sign of weakness, in his eyes. Growing up, the hand of harshness had been his teacher, so naturally, harshness was the way he taught. What many of his fellow acquaintances and colleagues did not know is that the person he was harshest on was the person he valued most–himself.

And now, as he sat in his chamber with his head in his hands, he doled out the harshness with extreme severity.

His body felt numb; even as his hands fisted themselves and tangled around the dark locks on his head, he could not seem to feel it. He felt as if no magic, no potion that he would be so adept at brewing, could quiet his mind to the point of sanity. For some ungodly reason, he had gone against all that was perfectly sane, knowing he was risking everything, thinking that he would come out of it unscathed. He had done something as risky and stupid as some adolescent, some idiotic boy that was desperate to feel the touch of a woman, some woman, _any_ woman... but especially a woman that lay far beyond the reaches of his grasp.

_She_ had been a siren. _She _had lured him... curse her for being alluring and elusive, for her inquisitive nature and insatiable curiosity. She had made it so he couldn't even think straight enough to lock the door to his own chambers as soon as she was in his midst so privately, so that anyone could walk in and catch them in the act--precisely what had happened! Was he so blind in this that he forgot about his profession, the thing that paid his bills? His position at Hogwarts was his saving grace at a time when he thought he was finished. Dumbledore, who had no right to take him in after the betrayal he had committed, did so with the utmost certainty and trust that he would remain faithful. Was this another betrayal on behalf of Severus Snape? The rules and regulations, the propriety that was not only laid down by the school but also society, had once again been broken. He was the culprit, and as much as he wanted to blame the seductress, disguised so cleverly in the body of one of his students, he could not place it on her.

From the start, he knew he had made the crucial mistake of admitting his intrigue for her, _to_ her. It wasn't something of lust, for she was just a girl when she became a pupil at Hogwarts. In all of his years of teaching, he had never found a young person that was so intuitive and confident in her knowledge, even at the tender age of eleven. Someone who valued wit and intelligence over brawn... oftentimes Snape wondered how a student with such cleverness ended up in Gryffindor.

Her Gryffindor qualities were revealed to him in her boldness, and it was this about her that annoyed him endlessly. Her little arm shooting up on the very first day of class, the need for her to show off her favorite talent–knowing things better and faster than everyone else around her, bothered him from the very start. Worse yet, as he found out later in the year, she became one of Potter's confidantes. Yes, she was a Gryffindor... through and through and through.

Yet, there was nothing to help his interest in the girl from growing. It was detached and innocent–almost as if she were this little experiment that he was able to witness, watch its progress, watch it unfold its secrets. There were times where he was charmed by her brashness as she grew. When rumors spread that she had manhandled Malfoy in her third year–God knows the little, spolied, son-of-an-heiress needed a strong hand to teach him manners–he couldn't help but chuckle slightly. He, very unwillingly, found that she was quite excellent at brewing Potions, although not as excellent as she was in Ancient Runes and Transfiguration.

And so, he was intrigued by his best student, and he tried to convince himself that this was normal. After all, so many of the professors at Hogwarts beamed about her in the staff room, he figured that they must have been fascinated with her, also. Was it suspicious that he could never bring himself to admit this fascination? Perhaps, but he was Severus Snape–his fascinations were something he kept to himself always–his personal life never collided with his work. It was his rule.

He was to blame, breaking his own rules when he told her that he felt she was worthy of someone's attention when she had felt as low as dirt. She had been betrayed, it was easy enough to see in her eyes and actions, by her Weasley ex-boyfriend. The urge to comfort her was overwhelming, and he had succumbed. If he had just stayed hardened for moments longer, if he could have detached himself from the situation... none of his current problems would be existent.

The moment she kissed him that night in detention, somewhere inside of him, very deep down, he knew that his fascination did, in fact, extend into the realm of things that were not so clean-cut and innocent. Her lips upon his was like a boyhood fantasy coming to fruition, and it shook him to his very core. He would have never made a move like that on a student, no matter what the circumstances. When she did move upon _him_, however, the tables were turned, and he simply could not deny the pleasure it brought to him. His options were clearly in front of him from the moment he felt her lips caressing him–push her away, embrace, or do nothing. He did nothing. Little did he know that this was the deadliest option of all.

Pushing her away would have ended it, while embracing her would have caught her off guard, making it awkward, he later analyzed--she would have abandoned the prospect before it could grow into something significant. As he stood there, accepting the kiss without returning it, he had seemed to open the Pandora's box of sexual fantasies and delusions within Hermione's mind. She had absolutely no idea about how _he_ would have felt about the kiss either way, so naturally, a girl so inquisitive would need some kind of closure before she could rest easily.

She did seek him out, and suddenly, he found himself pinning her against a door and relishing in her body. For some reason, it did not click that he was doing the Wrong Thing. It did not matter that she had wanted him, because it was his duty to say 'no' to the eager student, teaching her know that wantonness is not something that is desired in the Real World. Still, he did not stop her? Why? Because he was a fool that crumbled to lust? Was he that man? That person that could not begin to stop his arousal when an eager female presented herself?

Absolutely not. For Severus Snape decidedly had no lovers, and sex was not something that he had indulged in since he was barely out of Hogwarts himself, during his Death Eater days.

He did concede, eventually, that he was a man, and that he wasn't acting out of the ordinary by being attracted to her. Yes, she was young, but she was not _really_ underage. She was nearly eighteen, and the real issue was that she was still the student, and he was still her professor. Unfortunately, this did not stop Hermione from being a woman that was attractive to him. This seemed to work as his excuse up until this very morning, when the little world they had created for themselves had come crashing down in front of their eyes.

He got up from the bed, flicking his wand at it, pulling the sheets and blankets back onto the bed neatly. He picked his stray clothing up off of the floor, noticing that Hermione had left some crucial garments behind–garments that were lacy, white, and sexy while somehow still being somewhat modest. This sent a flare of anger coursing through his body, only to find that pain and confusion came in waves behind it. His first thought was to burn it all straightaway, eliminating all traces of her from the room. As he went to flick his wrist once more, he stopped himself at the last minute with a pang of guilt in his heart, deciding that it was proper to simply wash them and send them back to their rightful owner, eventually.

He glanced into the mirror that hung on the wall near the bathroom, and scrutinized himself, wondering why this young woman would find interest in him–why he was the one that _she_ chose to torture and ruin. Snape smacked the idea out of his head before he could pity himself–it was he who needed punishing.

Stepping into the shower, he turned the faucet all the way towards the little engraved 'C', indicating the frigid temperature that the spout spurted forth. He shuddered and then stood still. Doubtlessly, he would be getting a call from Dumbledore. There would be a hearing, and he would be deemed a lousy, worthless, sex-driven pedophile. He would see Hermione again that day in court, and, being the smart girl that she was, would testify against him. His reputation was over, and, it seemed, so was the part of his life in which he felt as if he was accomplishing something by being the Potions Master. It was now, his turn, to be truly alone.

As the cold water slid over his body like ice, he found that an awkward prickling sensation was playing around his sinuses. He had never felt anything like it before, and it wasn't until he felt the contrast of the wet heat on his cheeks from the cold of the shower did he realize that they were tears.

**(Chap. Title is by the Red Hot Chili Peppers)**

**a/n: I blatantly stole the phrase 'doles out the harshness' from the famous Dr. Tran skit from lone sausage productions. Dr. Tran Doles Out the Harshness! Uhh, yeah, i'm a weirdo, but it's really quite fantastic so Youtube that shite. Also note the missing panties idea that was originally from Grey's. More to come with that little sidestory, I promise :)**


	21. Love Ain't For Keeping

**Chapter 21:**

**Love Ain't For Keeping**

Hermione and Ginny were sitting in the corridor outside of the Headmaster's office for mere two minutes before they heard hurried footsteps coming towards them. Hermione's heart sank when she noticed that they were coming from behind the stone gargoyle that was the entrance to the office.

On cue, the gargoyle leapt aside as Professor McGonagall stepped out into the corridor, Professor Dumbledore bringing up the rear, still dressed in his night-robes. Her head did a double take when she saw Hermione's sullen, tear-worn eyes staring up at her, and Ginny, who had put a caring arm around her friend in an effort to comfort her.

Professor Dumbledore, too, saw the sight, and simply smiled at the girls in that grandfatherly way. "For a Saturday morning, you young ladies are up rather early!" he noted with a chuckle. He looked towards the windows where the sun shined through in earnest. "Beautiful day, isn't it? If I were a young lady, I would particularly enjoy this fine opportunity to take in the grandeur and natural beauty that lay within the grounds of Hogwarts by taking a long walk." He smiled as all three of the women glared at him, his cheerful manner somewhat irksome and cryptic. "Alas, I am not a young lady on this fine morning, but an old man, who is aged and tired. I will sleep, instead. However, I feel that my suggestion might be helpful, even therapeutic, if you will."

"Thank you, Headmaster," said Ginny, who still had her arm around Hermione. Once Professor Dumbledore had left, both girls jumped up into action immediately.

"Professor, I don't know what Harry told you, but he was mistaken! Hermione was with me all night!" shrilled Ginny, her voice echoing off of the stone walls of the corridor..

"Please, _please_ Professor McGonagall, please let him keep his job, it was my fault, all mine!" begged Hermione at the same time, tears spilling over the edges of her eyes as her pleas were, too, traveling throughout the hallways at a loud volume.

The Deputy Headmistress whipped out her wand and said, "_Silencio_!" immediately stifling their pleas and cries. "I think we are _all _going to go for a walk, whether we are young ladies or old ones!" she said, striding ahead towards the main entrance.

Once they were upon the grounds, the sun immediately warmed the three of them. It was hard to stay so scared and angry as the spring day surrounded them so beautifully. They said nothing for some time, whether it was by magic or by will. Once they were a decent walk away from the castle, by the Black Lake, Professor McGonagall flicked her wand upon them and they were able to speak. "One at a time," she said, pointing at Ginny to go ahead and speak first.

"No!" said Hermione, to Ginny's horror. "It isn't fair–she won't give you the truth! She is trying to protect me, but it won't help, will it? You've already been to the Headmaster, and he already knows!"

Ginny interjected angrily, "Professor, she has no idea what she is talking about, and neither does Harry for that matter. You can go back to Professor Dumbledore and tell him it was a huge mistake!"

"Ginny, stop, you aren't helping!" she said, glaring at the girl angrily. "Professor McGonagall knows damn well that Harry was right about what he saw, and so were you."

"Hermione, you are being absolutely ridiculous!" screamed Ginny, who seemed as if she was ready to pounce on the girl if she actually admitted to her wrongdoing. "Just stop!"

"Perhaps he is using the _Imperius_ curse, Miss Weasley," spoke Professor McGonagall softly, through tight lips. "If that is the case, she has no idea of what she is doing."

Hermione shouted "No!" loudly and crumpled in a heap, sobbing. Her resolve had held up rather well thus far, but the simple reference to the man she had just shared a bed with had ruined it. She sobbed in heaves, her body shaking with each one. Her hands held herself steady on the ground, as if the whole world was going to turn over and she would lose it entirely. "It was me, I started this whole thing, it is MY FAULT!" she bellowed through tears.

Both Ginny and Professor McGonagall had their hands over their mouths with pained looks upon their faces, knowing that it was not simply a matter of her admittance and punishment. Ginny moved to touch her, to lend a comforting hand, but Hermione winced away at her touch, shuddering. Instead, Professor McGonagall said quietly, "It is for this reason that I did not tell Professor Dumbledore about your... current position."

Hermione's head snapped up violently, the rays of hope shining through her misted eyes. "You mean, the only people that know are Harry, Ginny, you and me?" she asked frantically.

"And... Severus," she said with a hint of trepidation. Ginny simply looked away, not able to really accept how horribly her best friend was bent over the man they had spent six years of their lives loathing.

Hermione stood up and said, "If the Headmaster doesn't know, then... h-h-he won't get fired." She sobbed, unable to control it. "He won't get fired, he'll be _here_," she repeated under her breath with a hint of a smile tracing her lips. "Oh, Professor McGonagall!" she said gratefully, throwing her arms around her professor and hugging her.

The older woman looked upon her student with sadness, and nothing was said until Hermione stopped squeezing her. When Hermione noticed that she was the only one smiling widely, she asked, "I'm guessing that I've still earned my share of detentions..." Her tone was only slightly morose, though her smile did diminish.

The warm air blew and ruffled her hair, exposing to the world a few stray marks upon her neck from last night's jaunt. Her professor looked away from the sight with an involuntary reaction of disgust, saying, "It is a little more complicated than that, Miss Granger."

Hermione sniffled and wiped her eyes. "Okay, I can understand that, but what must I do? I'll do it, I'll do anything for this to stay a secret." Her tone was slightly desperate, but more caring than anything else.

Professor McGonagall spoke in a reserved tone, "Understand that this situation is delicate, and you've placed me in a peculiar position. In my hands, now, lay the power to ruin the career of an... upstanding... man and to quash your future of becoming any sort of reputable witch. I would rather like to do neither of those, and a trip to the Headmaster would make both a reality, whether he would like it or not. However, I simply cannot allow this to continue–my conscience will not let it. I will not let a man take a child's innocence, not within the confines of this school!"

"I'm not a child!" said Hermione angrily. "This was my decision, my choice!"

"He's a man, a _teacher_, Hermione!" she said with vehemence. "He should have known when to tell you that your decision was a bad one!"

"How was it bad, because it broke one single rule?!" shrieked Hermione. "I'm not saying that what happened was _conventional_, but how can it be wrong when–" she said, stopping herself before she revealed too much. Her heart was pounding as rapidly as it had been when she was in bed with her professor, knocking against her ribcage violently.

"When what?" spoke McGonagall in a deadly tone.

Hermione answered reluctantly, "When it... feels so right." She glanced over at Ginny, who had her jaw dropped slightly. Then suddenly, she could not stop her feelings from flowing into words. "It... oh, Professor, I felt magnificent... it was like... I was drowning and coming up for air. I had never felt more _alive_ when he–"

"Enough!" Professor McGonagall threw her hands up in frustration, "You are better than this, Miss Granger! Your intelligence should tell you that sometimes the things that feel so right are actually wrong in the bigger picture!" Hermione opened her mouth to protest, but her professor cut her off again. "You may be lost–captivated by the physical feeling of... it. The lust, Hermione–that base desire and want for... _him_. Could you ever imagine it being more than that with a man such as Severus Snape?"

"Of course, I..." began Hermione with gusto, only to find that words seemed to fall short of her lips when she truly gave Professor McGonagall's words thought.

She turned away from the two, unable to face them, let alone herself. Her thoughts were all over the place, and she couldn't focus. Try as she might to see what could potentially lay past the passion that she held for him, she could not seem to think about much else about the man.

"Hermione," said Ginny gently, clearly concerned. "did you have real feelings for him?" She placed a kind hand on her shoulder, looking at her with real concern etched in her features.

Hermione could not feel it, however. Her mind was racing as the images of the man she had slept with so easily flew through her mind like wildfire. In the same moment, she could recall his touch, the way his tongue would skillfully trace her inner lip, and then she was envisioning his bitter attitude, the man that seemingly wanted to crush her spirit and leave her like a wounded animal on the side of some road. She could remember his embrace as he held her throughout the night, her body ensconced within his sinewy limbs, his living and breathing flesh; then she remembered how, despite her best efforts and knowledge, the thing that she held so dear to her soul, she knew (and he confirmed) that she would be nothing more than "an insipid little girl", a silly young thing that knew little more than what she read so avidly in the her textbooks. She recalled the bitterness in his voice when he said it... the way he had pushed her away so easily, just as easily as he had taken her in. What did she seriously expect from Severus Snape? Why was she so bent out of shape? Did she really, truly have feelings for him? Did she, in fact...

"Severus is not an easy man to love, Hermione," said Professor McGonagall tenderly after awhile. "He is not an easy man to trust. You only–"

"No," said Hermione defiantly. "It wasn't love..." She trailed off, trying to figure out exactly how to explain herself. "You just perceive it that way because I'm who _I _am, and he is who _he _is!"

"Hermione, what are you–"

"Ginny, stop!" she yelled to the redhead loudly, causing her to recoil, hurt. "All of the people I know see me as this girl, this innocent little _thing _that plays by the rules and doesn't really have a passion for anything but books and success... and everyone was _so _enthralled that I was dating your brother because we are just oh-so-_perfect_," she spat, placing a moderate amount of disgust upon the word 'perfect'. "It would have been a storybook ending, wouldn't it have been? Textbook, right down to where the girl-that-played-it-safe falls into the arms of her flawed-but-essentially-kind-hearted boyfriend. And they live happily ever after, right? Isn't that what you want? Isn't that what your mum wants? Has anyone taken into consideration what _I want_?!" she said, her voice trembling with anger.

Both the professor and friend said nothing, bracing themselves for the worst. The bright sunlight taunted them as it warmed their faces, causing them to sweat further as the moment intensified.

Hermione raged onward. "No one took the time to understand, and when he lied it _broke_ me," she said, her voice hoarse from yelling. "Do you know how much I trusted him with? _Do you_? I was so nervous, so keen on getting every little detail right with Ronald Weasley, because it seemed like The Right Thing To Do. Suddenly, one lie later after over a _year_ of supposed honesty, it was impossible to even look at him. Do you know how that _feels_? To truly place your trust in someone and have them hurt you after you've told them things that you've _never_ told anyone else... in strictest confidence... in perfect trust... he broke me, Ginny... he broke me, and I found myself so curious for the first time..."

"No one really could understand my reasoning for doing what I did, I suppose," she said stiffly. "I don't even think _I_ understood it at first. But why... why do you feel so stunned that I had physical attraction to someone that had the same interests at heart as I did? Why do you feel that it is so wrong for me to have such basal desires? As Hermione Granger, am I not allowed to feel passion? Am I not allowed to be anything but this plain girl, forever shrouded in this false cloak of innocence, hiding all of my emotion and cravings under my skin for all of eternity?"

The girl had her fists balled tightly and was panting heavily. The spring day mocked her, and she found herself succumbing to the warmth even though her blood was already boiling in her arteries and veins. "Just because I slept with him does not mean I..." she trailed off again, unable to say it. The accompanying women looked at her with caution, knowing that it was all about to spill over. "I don't... _love _him," she said slowly, calculating her every word before she spoke it. Her voice trembled, and then there was silence. Awkward. Tension... it was hanging in the air like some awful ghoul that would not leave them alone.

"You don't love _who, _Hermione?" asked Ginny softly.

"_Him," _she said bitterly. "But I _wanted _him, and you ought not be so shocked that I would do such a thing." She turned her back away from her professor when she rounded on her.

"_Who _did you want, Hermione?"

Hermione frowned at her professor, uttering, "You know perfectly well who I wanted, Professor McGonagall. Your colleague... the man that is so adept at brewing any potion you could possibly need."

"You can't even bare to speak his name," said Professor McGonagall sadly, placing a hand on the girls arm. "How can we expect you to see him in class every day for the rest of term if you cannot even address the man properly?"

"I can... say it," said Hermione matter-of-factly, though her speech was getting choked up a little too easily in her throat. "I can admit it perfectly, without a feeling of regret. I slept with a professor... Professor..."

Again, she faltered, and the women stared her down as she tried to make the shape of an 'S' with her lips. It would not come forth. She stuttered and stammered, trying to understand why a name that came so easily to her lips at every other point of her life at Hogwarts simply was out of her grasp.

"Damn," she muttered softly, the tears coming to her eyes in small drops that reflected the intense sunlight that shone down upon them. "What have I done..."

**(Chap. Title is by The Who)**


	22. You've Got To Hide Your Love Away

**Chapter 22:**

**You've Got To Hide Your Love Away**

The Headmaster sat behind his desk, his long, thin-fingered hands folded carefully in front of him. Without any cue at all–no knock, footstep, or any other indication that human life was outside of the door–he invited Severus Snape to enter his office.

The dark haired man came in with a huff, his mannerisms flighty and jumpy–hardly the furtive man that he had hired 16 years ago for the position of Potions Master of Hogwarts. "Headmaster," acknowledged the man with a nod of his head, barely making eye contact.

"Do sit down, Severus," he said delicately, noticing the younger man's hands shaking slightly. "I have been expecting you for some time, now."

"I'd prefer to keep this visit short and to the point, sir" said the Potions Master bitterly, declining the offered seat and shoving a piece of parchment onto his superior's desk.

The elder man peered over his half-moon spectacles with a hint of bemusement in his eyes. After a moment, he said, "You are aware that I simply cannot accept this letter of resignation, Severus."

"And why, pray tell, not?" said Professor Snape with only slightly controlled vehemence.

"Your reasoning is not well-stated," said the Headmaster, still unable to keep a small smile from his features. "It says here that you are '_finding the potential for advances in the science of Potions limited and lacking in the environment of this establishment'_. Funny," said the man with a laugh, "you've never lodged a complaint with me before. In fact, we have given you he absolute _best_ facilities for your line of work. You can research at any time, and any ingredient you may ever need can be procured as easily as a walk to the private stores that are two doors away from your office."

Severus bit his lip angrily, wishing to throttle the old man that was grinning at him like an idiot, that all-knowing aura glinting behind his eyes. "I have a urge to conduct my research abroad in order to make more of an impact on wizardkind. This school has proved to be–"

"Distracting?" mused Professor Dumbledore.

"Positively fruitless in yielding one student that could decently brew any potion at the 'Outstanding' Ordinary Wizarding Level for the past five years, let alone at the N.E.W.T. level!" he said angrily. "My talents are being wasted here on these _children_ who can't even begin to understand the subtle art..."

"Severus, I do commend you on your, erm, _well-rehearsed _speech, but I must admit that you are being quite absurd!" he said with jollity. "I'm sure there has been at least one wizard or witch that has passed at the Outstanding level in your exacting field of Potions. Quite frankly, I'm rather positive that you've taught at least _one_ student how to bewitch the mind and ensnare the senses with a rather adept hand, don't you think?"

Severus fumed at the Headmaster, slamming his hands upon his desk loudly. Professor Dumbledore did not even flinch, though his expression did harden. "Headmaster, I happen to _know_ that Minerva has informed you of certain affairs regarding myself and... a certain other particular... student... in this school. It is only prudent that I resign now and–"

"Why do you punish yourself so harshly, Severus?" asked Professor Dumbledore quietly. "The only thing that Minerva has told me regarding your relationship with any of the students is that you have actually loosened up quite a bit. She feels it has been an... _effective_ change in your teaching style."

The younger man was almost spluttering for words. "Well... I... I had no idea," he said, shrugging. "I was rather mistaken, then, for I thought–"

"Oh, Severus, I knew about the incident with Miss Granger the moment she laid a hand on you," said Professor Dumbledore with a trace of a smile haunting his wizened lips.

The sound of her name hit Severus like a sack of bricks; the realization that the Head of the school knew about the affair the entire time from the moment it began was another round of the feeling of heavy things ramming into him at around the stomach level. "How...?" he asked, unable to find words.

"I have detectors in place for this sort of thing," he said nonchalantly. "I just... well, quite frankly, it has never been an issue before now. I was quite at a loss of what to do when the thing went off blaring. I merely had to glimpse into the detector to see the girl going positively ga-ga over you."

Severus' pale cheeks flushed with sincere embarrassment. "The night that I had assigned her detention..." he remarked softly. "I am assuming that is when you were first... alerted."

"Oh yes, well, I deactivated the system after the first few weeks," he said easily. "It was going off every two seconds and was very distracting, especially when I was trying to nap."

Professor Snape looked at him quizzically, scrutinizing the man for the hidden message that he clearly wanted him to find out 'on his own'.

"Don't look at me like that, Severus, she was trying to forget about it at first," he said. "It was _you_ that couldn't get it out of your mind."

"It was lust!" he said angrily.

"Oh ho, dear Severus, that is where you are wrong," he said, twirling his wand in the air, putting it to his head, and pulling out a single strand of thought from his mind. He magnified the thought it midair–Severus was horrified to find his shirtless figure revolving in midair, clutching to a blurred out something as he murmured something ever so softly. He recalled it immediately, feeling ashamed, knowing that the soft words he was whispering upon his lips were, in fact, the syllables of Hermione's name.

"It was... simply a moment of weakness," stammered Severus, remembering the soft feel of her breasts as simply laid his head upon them... the comfort that it brought to feel her warm hands running through his hair. "Lust, I tell you... I ought to be sacked for it."

"Hush, Severus," he said with sincerity. "You and I both know that you fell for the girl the moment you met her."

"Are you accusing me of being a pedophile?" asked Severus seriously. "Are you trying to tell me that I had an infatuation with an eleven-year-old girl? Really? Your perception of me is now _that_ tarnished that–"

"Of course not," said Dumbledore in earnest, interrupting the angered man abruptly. "But I think you found a piece of yourself in that young girl that walked in nearly seven years ago... and you haven't been able to forget it, have you?"

"I... don't understand..." he said, trailing off miserably. "She is..."

"Brilliant," he began, "clever, cunning, witty, friendly, and rather charming, wouldn't you say?"

"Charming is hardly the word I would choose," he said shortly. "Intelligent, I will admit. She has no idea of the talents she could come to know."

"Much like someone I once knew twenty-something years ago as he put on the Sorting Hat and was sorted into Slytherin," he said with a chuckle. "Having no idea of the raw talent that he possessed... the drive... the love for success..."

"But she is bold and brash," he attempted to argue. "She is–"

"Not afraid of you," he said. "And you see that in her, and it means something to you."

"If I may, sir," he said bitterly, "I _need _to mention, _off _the record, that I feel you are being positively ridiculous! If you would just accept the resignation..."

"I would be losing my most knowledgeable staff member," said Professor Dumbledore. "Losing him to a girl that finally could measure up to be his equal... although I doubt if _she_ knows it, yet." The Headmaster leaned in over his folded hands, that knowing sparkle in his eye, saying, "And she is graduating in four-and-a-half weeks..."

Severus was at his wit's end with the old man in front of him. Was he unable to see reason? "You _are _aware that you are condoning this action that breaks one of the principle rules of this establishment."

"Oh, I am not condoning it by any means," he said, becoming suddenly serious. "Obviously, while the girl is a student at this school, there must be no... misconduct."

Severus shifted uneasily. "I have a strong feeling that the misconduct will not be occurring any time soon whether she attends Hogwarts... or not."

"Alas, Severus, again I say... you punish yourself so harshly!" he said. "Has it ever occurred to you that she could love you too?"

Professor Snape gulped audibly, feeling uncomfortable and suddenly feeling the need to perspire more than usual. He tugged a finger at the collar of his tightly fastened robes, saying, "L-love, sir?"

The Headmaster stood up, saying, "Let us keep this, in your words, short and to the point, shall we? I am not going to sack you, and you are most definitely not resigning. I will not let you abandon your post here because you've finally found the person that you are willing to spend the rest of your life with, as something more than a lover. A partner... a friend. Obviously, I cannot speak for you entirely–as acutely observant as I am, I have been known to make an error in judgement... well..." he shrugged, scrunching his old wrinkly face, "perhaps once." He sighed loudly. "Just know that once she is officially a free witch, not only of age but also no longer a student, you will have to come to terms with your feelings about her. And she, with you."

Severus finally collapsed into the chair in front of his desk, relinquishing his balled fists and his angry stare to something else entirely... something foreign and just out of his reach, yet still conceivable in his mind's eye. He rubbed his forehead wearily, saying in a flat tone, "You know that I _really_ do hate you sometimes."

Professor Dumbledore merely smiled cheerily, saying, "I don't know about that, Severus. I think you just hate being wrong..."

**(Chapter Title is by the Fab Four... the fabulous Beatles! Although, I feel like the Eddie Vedder version of the song is what was played in my head through this chapter. I encourage you to listen to this song as you read this chapter... it really gives the reader a nice spin on our favorite Potion Master's delicate situation :) )**


	23. Oh Lately It's So Quiet

**Chapter 23:**

**Oh Lately It's So Quiet**

The next week was something out of a hellish nightmare for Hermione Granger. It was bad enough when the entire school was still a-twitter about how she had slept with the 'mystery boy' that Ron could not seem to get his hands on, despite confronting nearly every single fifth year and upwards about his ex-girlfriend. Now, what was worse was that Harry and Ginny knew the truth, and the notion of Hermione sleeping with Snape hung over their conversations eerily, especially when Ron would decide to join in.

Ron pestered her nearly continually to tell him who it was, but she never budged, though she did promise him with utmost sincerity that she was not going to make 'the mistake' again. It wasn't something she did to appease Ron, to try to win him back, for they were over for good. She saw that Ron had moved back onto Lavender entirely, quite literally (rumor had it that they were 'trying it' again and again and again whenever they got the chance). No... her promise was more so a pact with herself, something that she did to settle her heart... to remind her of the impossibilities of having a relationship with a man such as her Potions professor.

Confronting Harry about it was the apex of her nightmarish week, as she found that she could not look her best friend in the eye as she spoke about it. He did not speak to her after her explanation at first; her plea seemed to fall upon ears that would not hear reason, his face stony and pained, his features hinting betrayal. She begged him to believe that even the best of people lose judgement sometimes (even though she did not particularly believe, _herself,_ that she had even made a lapse in judgement). Finally, however, he did concede, hugging her briefly and telling her that even if he couldn't understand the reasons why, he trusted that she would end up making the 'right choice' in the long run. Even so, Hermione felt that nagging feeling when she found that Harry was still unable to look her in the eye when they spoke.

She did skip Potions for the first few days, unable to cope with the possibility of seeing Professor Snape's aversion to her in his eyes. Hermione had a hunch that he would be back to berating her as soon as she set foot into his classroom. It wasn't until Wednesday that Ginny had brought some remarkable news that eventually led Hermione to attend class again.

"He gave Neville..._ House Points_..."said Ginny in a tone of disbelief as she plopped down next to a sulking Hermione in the plush velvet chair next to her. "Ten of them. It was through gritted teeth, but all the same, it happened. Rumor also had it that he did not call out a single student in a negative way in any of his classes today."

Hermione looked at Ginny quizzically and shrugged. "If you are thinking that _I_ had something to do with this..."

"Oh, I was just simply remarking on how the old bat has turned into a human being in recent weeks," said Ginny nonchalantly. "He's even given up those ugly, severe robes that he always used to wear. He has been rather taken with looking rather... presentable."

Hermione stifled the painful jolt in her heart upon recalling her memory of seeing the professor for the first time in the way the Ginny described. Her heart was not meant to pound for her professor the way it did that night in detention. Professor McGonagall had made it perfectly clear that whatever feelings that she had felt for the man were out of bounds with no way around it. Hermione also had a feeling that whether she was a student at Hogwarts or not, she was_ more_ than out of bounds when it came to Professor Snape; she was out of her league.

Nevertheless, Hermione attended Potions class on Thursday only to find Professor Snape exactly as Ginny had described him–positively positive and looking more laid-back than ever. It was strange to see him boldly trying to _encourage_ students to attempt innovative, new ways cut and stew a particular root, rather than damning all hopes of a decent grade to hell. Yet, she did find his change in personality and teaching methods refreshing, as did her classmates around her, who were almost beside themselves with surprise when the man had let class out a half and hour early on a particularly bright and sunny Friday afternoon.

However, when she did raise her hand to answer questions in class, she found that her professor neither praised nor belittled her–she was simply ignored. His eyes never once glossed over her seat or outstretched hand when he asked the class if they knew the answer to a particular question. She was never called an insufferable know-it-all ever again for the duration of his classes. She was never called on–period. At first, she was irritated--if she knew the answer, why shouldn't he call on her! A realization and acceptance finally drifted upon her--she did not need to press her knowledge of Potions into his face constantly... and so she stopped raising her hand altogether.

She took a draught for dreamless sleep each and every night since the incident with Professor McGonagall and Ginny on that sunny day by the lake. It would not do to have her professor lacing her dreams at night, moaning her name with pleasure in his silken voice as his hands caressed her body, only to wake up cold and alone, shivering in her bed and twisting her sheets, wanting him. No, she had to do everything in her power to keep her nights quiet. She had even reassigned her nightly guard duties to Ernie Macmillan, who was Head Boy–she did not want to run into Professor Snape in the dead of night ever again. The only way that she would be able to function properly, in the way that she had promised Professor McGonagall, would be if all contact with the man, aside from whatever happened within the confines of his Potions class, be severed.

Still, there were moments where the man haunted her. There were moments at which they would pass in the corridors or in the Great Hall during meal times, and it was at these points that she was on the edge of reason, when she felt as if she would burst out of the fragile cocoon that she had enveloped herself in to keep her every ounce of her being away from him. A small part of her desperately wanted to know if he really did loathe her... if he really did, in fact, find her to be just a stupid girl that was overly ambitious. With a certain amount of guilt, she quashed these thoughts before they could become anything more than what they were--mere figments of ideas. She kept her mind quiet, in order to keep her soul at bay.

The last month of term seemed to inch on forever, until finally, it was time for finals. Many of the Seventh year students were not required to take the absurd amount of N.E.W.T.'s that Hermione had opted to take; aside from the handful of over-achievers that resided in their year, the rest of their class were making preparations for their Commencement ceremony. It which was held one week after the last N.E.W.T. given–which was, ironically, Potions.

It was unfortunate for Hermione that she had come down with some awful stomach flu during her finals week. Dizzy spells hit her left and right, and it was harder for her to concentrate during her examinations. Potions was especially awful, as the fumes from her Strengthening Elixir were not agreeing with her stomach at all. She was sweating profusely as she hastily cut her ingredients in the proper way, being as precise as her shaking hands would allow her. It took all of her stamina to lift the potion from her cauldron with her wand and into the flask, as the room seemed to spin around her.

With shaky legs, she had walked over to the desk of Professor Snape, setting it down with a thud onto the hard surface that she once pinned him down upon as she whispered naughty nothings into his ear as she caressed his body up and down. It was the first time they had spoken since he shunned her from his bedroom. Her palms were sweating incessantly as she waited for him to acknowledge her. He, after all, did have to give her the grade that she had earned.

"Thank you, Miss Granger," he said quietly, not making eye contact. He took the stoppered bottle and examined it within his long-fingered hands. "Bright blue, as it should be," he said as he scrutinized the shining cobalt color. As he took the stopper off to further test it on the scrawny, warty toad that he had recruited for that very duty, she got another whiff of the Potion and nearly swooned, for it made her sick to her stomach. Keeping her feet level on the ground, she awaited the final trial, as well as her final grade from Hogwarts, with bated breath.

As he fed the Potion to the toad, there was an immediate change in the amphibian's features. As ripples moved through the animal's suddenly muscular body, it let out an extraordinarily powerful "Ribbit!" and knocked the rest of her carefully brewed Elixir right off of the table as it hopped into the air over their heads and onto the floor with a monstrous THUD. The bottle shattered next to the man's desk. However, she found the man taking no notice of the stinking mess.

Professor Snape looked at toad with an air of amusement playing about his features. He wrote a few notes on her grade sheet before handing it back to her, saying, "An 'Outstanding', Miss Granger, to be sure. I would have never expected anything less from a talented woman such as yourself."

Hermione, without a single thought, looked up at her professor with sincere gratitude, only to find him staring back at her in a very similar way he did before pinning her up against the very door that stood behind them–he was wearing a very wonderful _real_ smile upon his lips, as natural and sincere as anything she had ever witnessed in a human being. Her heart fluttered with a mixture of warm, intense feelings before something very nasty began struggling up from her stomach to her esophagus. Her eyes widened in horror as she turned a pasty shade of green.

"Miss Granger, are you entirely...?" he began concernedly only to be cut off by the inevitable.

"Oh, shit...!" was all she was able to get out before she spewed vomit all over the floor in front of her.

"...alright?" he finished, looking rather disgusted at the inexplicable amount of vomit that just came up through her mouth.

The feeling of relief from expelling the sick from her body came upon her, and she cleaned it up with her wand deftly, unable to keep from smiling. She had finished her last examinations at Hogwarts and achieved Outstandings on each and every one of them. Best yet, the one person that she was forced to long for in secret, forced to stifle all thought and dream about, finally had given her something she had desired since their last time together–a smile... a simple hint that he, too, had been at least _somewhat_ unwilling to stop thinking about her.

"I'm fine, really... just great!" she said happily, feeling a most pleasant upsurge of emotion that made her want to press her lips to his and never let go. Then, silence wrapped itself around the two of them, and neither could find the words to speak. They stood staring at each other, until Hermione began fidgeting with her bag, shoving her grade paper into it--clearly the girl was stalling for time.

"Miss Granger, is there anything else you need from me?" said the man in front of her in what was nearly a monotone voice.

She looked up at him, only to find that his expression turned into the unreadable abyss that she had grown to loathe, no sign of any emotion whatsoever. Something deep within her began coming to the surface, irritated and angered, and she could feel her cheeks flushing rose. For some reason, she wanted to lash out and scream at the man. Worse yet, tears began prickling at her eyes, threatening to trickle down her face in front of him. What did she need from him? Indeed, she needed an explanation or two!

Using all of her will power and strength of mind, she simply said, "No, I'm fine. We're--I'm... just wonderful."

Professor Snape was completely certain that his student and ex-lover was the furthest thing from fine, which was rather strange, as he was also certain that she was quite happy just after he had given her the grade that she had earned. To top it off, she was sick, earlier, though it also seemed as if all traces of her nausea had vanished into thin air. The girl seemed to be all mixed up, and he pitied her.

"You don't look well, Miss Granger," he said quietly. "Perhaps you ought to lay down or perhaps visit Madam Pomfrey." He knew that this response was inadequate, but somehow could not come up with anything that could help her. He was still her teacher, and she, the student--anything else would be inappropriate.

"I am fine, sir!" she said angrily, without thinking about it. Her cheeks were bright red now, and she looked as if she were about to explode. Tears were pooling in her eyes, and she could not come up with anything to dispel them.

"Hermione," he said so only she could hear, "calm yourself. You just finished your last examination, you scored an Outstanding, which--"

"Oh, well, that's why I am so happy," she said bitterly, through tears. "I had thought I had scored an I for Insipid, but apparently I am better than that at _some_ things, at least."

With that, she turned around rapidly, her bag spinning around her with enough momentum to hit Professor Snape with it, and walked out of the room, drying her eyes on her sleeve and daring not to look back at the man that had caused her to feel so intensely.

The man had suppressed every nerve in his body from taking the instinctual action of going after her straightaway and righting all of the negative connotations of him that she had in her head. He bit the inside of his lip, knowing that the girl was so far out of his reach while she was at school, _not_ knowing how she would feel about him once she was no longer attending Hogwarts, yet, realizing that if he did not act soon, she could be gone for good--whether she be halfway across the world studying abroad or in the arms of another man.

**(Chap. Title is by Ok Go and Bonerama. I chose this version of the song due to the sick addition of four trombones that the rock band of Bonerama adds to the creativity and voice that is Ok Go.)**


	24. Closer

**a/n: This is the final chapter of 'Divisions'!! BUT there are two alternate epilogues telling you how the story _really_ turns out. There is the first cut and then the alternate ending, as they are labeled as chapters. I encourage you to read both, and tell me which one you liked better... but you can choose which one you read first. Let me know your opinions, and thank you so much for all of your amazing and helpful reviews... and stay tuned for my new fic submission "Eleven Years"... which is most definitely some more hg/ss, with a slight twist :)**

**Enjoy!**

**Chapter 24:  
Closer**

The cloudless sky and soft breeze seemed to be charmed perfectly to fit with Commencement Day at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. An ornate amphitheatre had been set up upon the grounds near the lake, carved from a beautiful pinkish-grey rock, with seating enough to fit the entire school and the families of the graduates. It was a day where so many different traditions converged. Magicless Muggles were admitted onto to grounds of the school where their magical children were able to learn in a different way then they had when they were school-age children. Then, there were pureblood families that had, too, learned and had memorable experiences within the halls of Hogwarts themselves, generation after generation. People were being escorted into the enormous amphitheatre from all sides, marveling at the architecture and chatting with the families seated around them.

The seventh year students were awaiting anxiously in the Great Hall, dressed in their respective house colors, the young men in ornate dress robes with the ladies in soft, simple gowns with sashes. Hermione stood at the outside of the Great Hall with Ernie–as Head Girl and Boy, they were to lead the procession and eventually make separate speeches in front of the crowd.

"Nervous?" asked Ernie, who seemed to be fidgeting with the piece of parchment that he had obviously written his speech on.

"Yeah, a little," she said, with a small smile. She turned to look at her reflection in the glass of the window, and she adjusted the gold sash and her hair. She did not really put much effort into her hair, for once–she simply tied it back into a simple messy bun, so that any stray curls would frame her face, only using Sleekeazy's famous line of products enough to keep the frizz off.

"You look great," said Ernie, eyeing the girl from the corner of his vision. "Whoever you are trying to impress is one lucky fellow..."

"Oh!" said Hermione with an air of surprise. She turned to face him, blushing. "There isn't really anyone, Ernie..."

"I find that hard to believe," he said with a sheepish grin. He looked off into the distance down the hall. Professor McGonagall had caught his eye and gave him the signal to quiet the hall and get the students into order. "Ah, here we go!" he said. Hermione followed his lead, and soon, each of the Seventh Years were lined up according to House; Hermione and Ernie stood at the beginning of the procession.

As they proceeded onto the grounds and into the amphitheatre, Hermione felt herself begin sweating nervously. Her face had a smile plastered onto it, although she _did_ suddenly feel awfully worried. She already had picked out the redheaded section that the Weasleys sat in–she was anxious about what would happen when she went up to say her speech... would Fred and George have the gumption to set off one of their practical jokes to embarrass her, avenging their younger brother's hurt from her "treachery". Would Mrs. Weasley confront her? It worried her, true enough, but there were bigger things at hand...

She reached the center of the stage, surrounded by her peers, family, and the families of her peers. Her face felt hot and red–luckily the breeze was cooling her slightly, although there was the sensation of nausea at the center of her that she couldn't seem to shake. She took a seat next to Ernie near the central podium where they would soon be speaking. Her breath hitched slightly in her chest when she noticed that the Heads of Houses were to take their seats directly behind them. Her stomach churned nervously, and she willed with all of her might for the sick to go away.

Professor McGonagall filed in the row of seats behind Hermione, with none other than Professor Snape behind her. Hermione further reddened nervously. The Snape factor had not even _really_ crossed her mind until he was there, nearly three feet away from her. She did not need to even look behind her--she felt his presence, and it made her even more anxious.

Dumbledore had reached the podium, wearing his cheerful wizened expression and traditional dark robes accented with the colors of each House. He held out his hands in a gesture of gracious congratulations. "Ladies and gentlemen, magical and Muggle alike, we would like to welcome you to our annual Commencement ceremony..."

As he made his speech, Hermione fingered the speech that she had written herself, trying to take her mind off of her upset stomach. She was nervous about how the speech would go over, especially since she seemed to be sick all over again--she had hoped her flu would have went away, as it had been two weeks already. She had a great deal of confidence in the speech itself, as it was well-written and left room for improvisation. It was not necessarily controversial, but she was still worried about how it would reach the ears of particular members of the audience–especially the man that sat behind her.

"Without further ado, our Head Girl will now present her commencement speech,"spoke Professor Dumbledore grandly, gesturing for Hermione to get up and make her way to the podium. "Ladies and gentlemen, Hermione Granger."

The wave of applause (and even a few whistles) struck her and knocked her head back into reality. She almost felt as if she were going to fall over, she was so lightheaded from the warmth of the day combined with the hot blood under her skin, not to mention the vomit threatening to come up at any moment. With a nervous smile, she began:

"Ladies and gentlemen, family and friends... I would like to, first and foremost, extend an enormous thank you for coming to bear witness to our seventh year Commencement from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry... know this: we couldn't have done it without you..."

There was another round of applause, and she continued, her legs shaking, swallowing deeply to ward off the sick. "The past seven, rather, _eight _years have been quite a lot of.. different...things to me. They were terrifying–so many of us had felt the terror of You-Know-Who's evil firsthand, cutting our _actual_ Seventh year brutally short for us. Many of us have lost family, friends, classmates... countless individuals that had been hurt or killed at the hands of a wizard who feared love."

She paused for effect, noting that a particular section of the audience that had seemed to have sat together shifted uneasily as one body. She looked over at them and noticed that it was the families of former Death Eaters–Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy at the core of the group. Nervously, she set out to finish. "Yet, he was vanquished! We were left to repair those divisions and wounds together... we formed bonds and relationships that are untouchable by anything. We learned to appreciate the differences of background and ideals, after all, if we were all the same, how boring would this place be?"

"I've found that the relationships that I've made here at Hogwarts are something that I will never forget, not for as long as I live. I've made lifelong friends and found out a lot about myself in return. I achieved my goal... I became Head Girl and achieved the marks that I worked so hard for. However, I found that, sometimes, life does not always reveal to us what our heart truly wants in the most straightforward ways... sometimes we need to experience pain and indecisiveness in order to learn life's most crucial lessons... about love and caring for others...about tolerance. About what we may desire and what we may truly yearn for..." At this point, she pinpointed Ron in the audience and stared directly at him. "I know that each of us has had to make little divisions in our lives throughout these past years... small sacrifices in order to learn a little more about ourselves for the better. Perhaps things did not turn out exactly how we expected it... but that's just the way it goes sometimes. Sometimes we even surprise ourselves... parts of our personalities that lay dormant inside of us can be brought out by people, places, things... especially people." Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Professor Snape shift in his chair, his face turned towards her attentively. Fighting the urge to speak to him directly, she said, "These are the things that we cannot forget... the things that are burned into our memories and will never leave us, even as we go out into the world and make our marks on it... we'll make new friends, start families and new jobs... we'll make new memories, but we'll never forget the old. I believe I can speak for this entire seventh year when I say that our time at Hogwarts was truly unforgettable."

The cheers rose up around her like a tidal wave, and she found that she had tears in her eyes, the nausea finally conquered effectively for the time being. Her knees had stopped shaking, miraculously, although Professor McGonagall did help her off of the podium with a hug, saying, "Wonderful... brilliant girl you are!" in her ear. She couldn't help but grin over the Transfiguration teacher's shoulder into the dark eyes of the man that she tried to get out of her head constantly. Professor Snape stared back at her, tilting his head in acknowledgment, a small smirk on the corner of his lips, his eyebrow slightly raised.

As their names were called off, each Head of House presented the graduating student from their respective houses with a gold-embossed certificate, stating their completion of their magical education at Hogwarts. Professor Dumbledore, in turn, shook the hand of each and every student, congratulating them heartily. Hermione could not help but see that glimmer of knowing behind his eye as she shook the man's hand. She returned his twinkling smile as she grasped her certificate under her shoulder. She did not take her place upon the stage in the middle of the amphitheatre, but instead, she sat with her classmates, next to Harry, who sat next to Ron.

Harry smiled at her, hugging her in the brotherly way that she had come to know over the years. She still had stray tears in her eyes when they broke apart from the embrace.

"It was a wonderful speech, Hermione," said Harry, grinning at her. "Not that we would have expected anything less from you."

Hermione noticed, as she wiped her eyes, that Harry had nudged Ron in the ribs, causing Ron to react, saying, "Oh yeah, Hermione. Erm... it was rather nice." His voice was strained, forced, and awkward. All the same, she couldn't help but grin at the boy sheepishly.

"Oh, Ronald," she said with a laugh, pulling the boy in for an embrace that was equally as awkward as his comment towards her. Somehow, the strange feelings that should have accompanied this act did not seem to come. The feeling of their coming of age had taken hold... and suddenly, so many of their qualms and quarrels did not seem to matter so much.

Well, not _all_ of them, anyway.

"So are you going to tell me?" asked Ron in her ear while they hugged over Harry's seat.

"Tell you what?" she said, pulling away from him slightly.

"You know," he said airily. "About the random boy you decided to sleep with that one time..."

Hermione scoffed at him and was about to retort with a feisty rebuttal until she realized that he was, for once, just kidding. Seeing him loosen up definitely helped her spirits lift even higher. She smiled at him, shaking her head and allowing a laugh to grace her lips. It wasn't something she could tell him on a day like this...

The amphitheatre had begun to clear out after the final speech, ceremony, and many, many rounds of applause, cheers, and whoops. There was to be an enormous feast in the Great Hall, which had been stretched out and expanded in order to accomodate the hordes of people into the hall for dining purposes. While there were little paths of people starting to make their way back to the castle, many had stayed behind to take pictures together on the grandiose stage or by the lake.

Hermione had been taking pictures for nearly a half hour after the ceremony. She had been starving, but still, she could not bring herself to come up to the castle just yet. As she had been posing with a rather reluctant Weasley family, she saw a tall, black-clad figure standing by the banks of the lake, alone. His dark hair was ruffled by the wind, she noticed, and there was no mistaking that pronounced nose. There were a few moments where she had caught him looking back towards the amphitheatre rather sneakily. Her heart fluttered in anticipation mixed with slight irritation, regarding their last incident together. Still, the anticipation and prospect of being able to speak freely with him won out, in the end. It would not be so very _wrong_, she supposed, if she were to speak to him for a few moments before the feast.

When she was finally free of the paparazzi-like camera shutter and flash bulbs, she took a deep breath and stepped carefully down to the shore of the lake. When she came upon the soft sand, she slipped out of her high heels, leaving the crimson shoes on the grass behind her. Now that he was closer, she found that her heart refused to beat at a normal pace. Her knees became suddenly weak again, and she found herself becoming nearly sick with anticipation. It became clear to her that she had no idea what she planned on saying to the man, let alone even having a guess at what to expect from _him_. As she felt the sand become firmer and damper beneath her feet, she shivered. He was so close, and they were so far away from everyone else...

**(Chapter Title is by Joshua Radin)**


	25. EpilogueFirst Cut

**Epilogue--First Cut  
**

"Congratulations, Miss Granger," he said to her without turning to her. Hermione jumped back in surprise, her heart beating impossibly faster upon hearing his voice, smooth as silk. She couldn't stop her breath from hitching in her chest before she could answer him, and she stalled momentarily, trying to find the words that would adequately fit the situation.

Sensing her trepidation, he continued, still not bringing himself about to look at her full on in the face. "Your speech was..."

"No less than what you would expect from an insufferable know-it-all?" she said, with a hint of amusement in her voice.

"Interesting," he said thoughtfully, "I was thinking you were going to call me out, so to speak, on my regrettable mistake of referring to you as 'insipid', and yet you choose to prey upon your own intelligence... as I had done for so long..." He sighed deeply, saying, "Understand that I meant nothing of the sort, insulting you. In my anger... in my fear, rather, I spoke recklessly that morning. Without consideration. Again, this was a mistake."

Even though she could not see him directly, she could tell by his subtle movements that he was holding something in his hands, fidgeting with it nervously. She longed to face him completely but understood that this was something that he had to do of his own volition. She maintained her silence, which urged him to continue.

"I.. I am not the kind of man that opens up easily. I don't... broadcast my feelings to the world like so many are apt to do. I have made it a point _not_ to involve myself in petty affairs of affection or fondness, made a rule not to form attachment of the _sentimental _kind," he said, sounding spiteful towards himself. He shook his head, saying, "I never wanted to know what it felt like to feel the imminent ruination of those things, to lose those whom I was so attached to. It was a pain that I could allow myself to be free of by my own decision. I set out to be a solitary creature. I was _so_ successful in this undertaking..." he trailed off, hearing her move ever so slightly towards him, catching him off-guard. "And then..."

Finally, he turned to face her, his eyes blazing with something that she had not yet seen them portray. She was unsure of what exactly lay behind his gaze--it seemed unsettled, and yet, at the same time, he seemed quite certain about how he wanted to proceed. With one hand still lingering out of her sight, he took a step towards her saying, "You are the furthest thing from insipid that I know of, and that is no exaggeration. I feel that what I could give you, what I _have_ given you... it is inadequate compared to what you justly deserve. You are young and just starting out as an adult in this world... there are experiences that you deserve to have, things that a man like me cannot give you." His voice ached with defeat and desperation, and she knew that he was torn between wanting her and the Right Thing To Do.

Hermione could stay silent no longer, although her voice was barely a whisper. "You clearly have no idea the extent of what you have already given me, then..."

Severus found himself unable to break eye contact with the young woman, although he couldn't stop his nerves from trembling incessantly. "But I cannot give what the typical young woman _expects _from a man... but you, Miss Granger--"

"Please," she said quietly, "call me by my given name. I am no longer your student, Severus..." She nearly choked out his first name, so worried about how it would roll off of her tongue that she could barely breathe when she uttered it.

"Hermione," he spoke gently, "you are not just any typical young woman. You are the furthest thing from ordinary. You seem to be laboring under the delusion that you deserve less than your equal, that you deserve someone _ordinary_. For some reason, you sought me ought and, forgive me, I do not understand how you could consider a person such as myself as even somewhat adequate." Hermione opened her mouth to speak, but he silenced her with a finger to her lips, closing the gap between them. Her heart skipped a beat as she felt his touch for the first time since the encounter in his bedroom. He leaned closer to her saying softly, "You deserve someone who is passionate about life as you are... someone who can match your brilliance in all of your ways... someone who can understand the intensity and fervor you possess for who and what you care about... someone who..."

He closed his eyes as he felt her shaking hand curl around his, taking it away from her lips and entwining it with her fingers. She spoke so gently that she was afraid the single wrong word would send him away from her forever. "Perhaps if you could just see past your own hardened exterior, you would find that all of the qualities you see so fit for me..." She trailed off, her voice trembling.

Severus opened his eyes as the silence descended upon the two of them, and he saw her eyes shining bright with the intensity that had intrigued him from the very beginning. Her face looking so hopeful and perservering _for him_ unhinged his senses, and he grasped her hand tightly. Quietly, almost plaintively, he said, "Hermione, you are driving me mad with anticipation..."

"It's you," she said breathlessly. "All I've wanted is _you_. I've been a mess this past month--a cleverly concealed mess that looks fine and acts fine, but is the furthest thing from fine because she has fallen for a man that she couldn't possibly have!" Tears formed in her eyes as she let go of his hand and paced in front of him, glaring. "This intensity, this fervency for life you tell me that I have... it is there! But it has no direction, and it is sitting there, building up, waiting for the next person that I can wreak it on, overwhelming them and, once again, I will end up with a man that does not understand a damn thing about me! A man who is too _kind _to let me go on with my life because he is attracted to a tiny, miniscule part of my personality that is everything to him... and yet next to nothing to me. Maybe he will adore the way I laugh or perhaps, he will think I am beautiful and charming. He will think I'm a 'nice girl' and a 'good person', but he will know _nothing_ of my passion. _Nothing_ of my intensity. He will merely see the tip of the iceberg... the rest of me forever buried, unable to expose my true feelings because it would not be something that he could understand!"

"And you," she said, zeroing in on him. "You've seen the rest of this metaphorical iceberg and were unphased... undaunted! Do you seriously expect me to just forget everything that has happened, thinking that there is actually someone else out there that can give me more than you have?! Really?" Her eyes were now full of the tears, behind which was some kind of angry confusion, frazzling her further. Even her hair seemed to take on her mood as it began coming out of her bun as she paced.

"Where else will I find a man that will truly understand my love for studies and how I immerse myself in my work? Where else will I find a man who, in his subtle mannerisms, drives me absolutely _mad _with a desire that I never had even so much as _dreamed _of? Who else will touch me and make me feel like a woman, instead some stupid girl going through the motions? Who else will even _acknowledge _my love for life and intensity, let alone embrace it and find it a thing of beauty, a rarity? You feel inadequate, Severus? If this is so, then, I may as well purchase at _least _seventy more cats, own a very large and empty house, and sit in my house all day listening to soap operas on the radio whilst munching on graham crackers, wondering if I ought to leave the house or not because I don't want a man that _isn't you_."

She stood there, silent, shaking, sweating, bright red, and crying as the man in front of her surveyed her with his dark eyes, unable to figure out his next course of action. His features betrayed no knowledge of what was going on inside of his head. Finally, he drew towards her slightly, taking his hand out from behind his back. A white, long stemmed rose was grasped in his hand. Hermione stared at it, wanting so badly to say something but finding herself unable to speak. He took her hand, opened it, and put the stem of the rose into it, subsequently closing her hand around it with a touch as soft as silk. Out of habit, she lifted the petals to her nose and inhaled the scent in deeply, the softness of the petals tickling against her lips.

Before she could utter the words "thank you", Severus' lips were upon hers, and he was kissing her as if she were going to evaporate into thin air in moments. He grasped her tightly, and she laid a hand on his chest, feeling his heart pounding against it as if it wanted to jump through his ribs and right into her hand. She felt his body shiver as she pressed her body against his own, crushing the little flower between their bodies.

Neither of them knew how long it had been when they had finally broken apart from each other. Both of them began speaking at once, unable to keep their voices down.

"Severus, I know that it will be hard sometimes--"

"Hermione, what will happen when everyone you know finds out about--"

"--and that potentially, things could change between us, as it would with anyone--"

"--us, they won't understand it... what about what your friends and your--"

"--and that we don't really know each other _all _that well--"

"--parents... oh God, I've forgotten...you have _parents_, parents that are my age and--"

"--but I'm willing to work through the difficulties if it means that we can be--"

"--will they accept it? The fact that someone twenty years your elder and you are--"

"--together?" they finished at the same time. They found themselves once again seeking the answers in each others eyes, only finding tidal waves of different feelings and emotions in which the answers _may_ be hiding. There were chances worth taking... was this one worth it? Everything seemed uncertain, and yet...

Taking the leap of faith, the man embraced her tenderly, his fingers caressing her neck softly as he looked into her eyes. "A smart girl would know when she is in over her head," he said with a teasing smile.

"Good thing I'm not just smart, then," she said, leaning in closer to the man that had captured her heart, laying her head upon his chest. "I'm brilliant."

**--the end!-**

**(or is it?? have you read the alternate ending yet? no?? go read that!)**


	26. EpilogueAlternate Ending

**Epilogue--Alternate Ending**

"Congratulations, Miss Granger," he said to her without turning to face her. Hermione jumped back in surprise, her heart beating impossibly faster upon hearing his voice, smooth as silk. She couldn't stop her breath from hitching in her chest before she could answer him, and she stalled momentarily, trying to find the words that would adequately fit the situation.

"Your speech was riveting," he continued through her absence of reply. "I found it to be grammatically correct, and your word choice was appropriate for the audience in question. I would give you fifty House points, but as you are no longer a student in this school..."

The words, somehow, shocked Hermione to the point where she felt as if she was going to fall over, her mind suddenly racing. Of course, she knew that she was no longer a student, but it never seemed to occur to her that she was also a free woman in the adult wizarding world. And he was a free man...

She smiled, somewhat bemused at the entire situation, knowing that she had been upset over nothing. She should have realized that after she graduated, she was free to do as she pleased with whomever she wanted to... but only if they also obliged to do said things with her. Her stomach seemed to drop out from her body when she realized that their previous encounters together made him not seem to be obliging at all, at least when it came to being with her. It was dangerous territory in which she would have to navigate every step carefully...

"If I may, Miss Granger, I have a proposal to share with you," he said, placing emphasis on the word 'proposal' with a glint in his eye that he must have stolen from a certain Headmaster from a certain wizarding school.

"P-p-proposal?" Hermione spluttered, her mind nearly collapsing over itself with the connotations that the simple word had, as thoughts spiraled out from it rapidly, uncontrollably. "But--" _So much for navigating carefully_, she thought, through all of the chaos in her mind.

Severus let out a chuckle, one that he seemed to be repressing nearly the entire time as it burst from his lips. "I'd like to ask you out on a date, Hermione."

Hermione's head suddenly stopped spinning and centered itself, concentrating directly on the eyes of the man in front of her. The man that just happened to ask her out. The man that _was_ her professor AND lover, and now was neither, thanks to the unfortunate timing of their infatuation for each other and affair. She looked up at him inquisitively and went to speak, only to find that words were not coming as easily as they should have been. "I... well... but... I suppose we... date..." She let out a sigh of frustration, saying, "You've already seen me naked, Professor."

"It's Severus, no more of this 'Professor' business," he said gently, smiling. "And I _have_ seen you naked. You've seen _me _naked--it's a moot point, really."

Hermione shook her head in disbelief, saying, "No, it's actually an important point in the dating process, this naked business... it is a big deal. Last time I dated someone, it took me eight months before I was comfortable enough to be naked in front of him. With you it took eight minutes and we weren't dating at all. If we do date, it is liable to take eight seconds."

He could see for the first time that she was, in fact, thoroughly confused about the entire situation. It seemed that nothing inside of her magnificent mind held an answer to the question at hand. "You are forgetting one enormously important detail," he said. "I know next to nothing about you. I only know that you are brilliant, persistent, bold, and rather feisty in particular situations, especially ones involving a bedroom or me being pinned to my office desk. I would like to know more about you. I'm nearly certain that I would like to know _everything _about you. I highly doubt that it will take eight seconds to do all of that."

Hermione felt as if her knees were going to give out from under her. She could not process the fact that her professor--well, ex-professor--was seriously interested in her in more than just a sexual way. She could only guess, before, that his feelings for her were more than just physical, but he was putting it out there on the table for her to see.

"I suppose we could go on a date," she said, letting a small smile appear on her lips. "Where would we go?"

"I hear Madam Puddifoot's is a great place to start, for young lovers," he said as Hermione's face blanched in horror, which was the exact effect that he had been striving for. "Actually, I know a wonderful little place, if you fancy Italian cuisine."

"Where is this wonderful little place?" she asked, unable to keep from acting flirtatiously. "And I do fancy Italian cuisine..."

"It is on the outskirts of Rome, and I would love to take you there on our first date," he said. "I trust you know how to Apparate by now."

"I wouldn't mind side-along Apparition if you are up for it," she said with a smile, moving nearer to him. "I wouldn't mind being so close to you..." She touched his hand, and he grasped hers lightly. They both shuddered as their bodies touched ever so lightly against each other.

"How does next Thursday sound?" looking down into her eyes while tilting her chin upwards to face him better.

"Perfect," she said as he closed the gap between their lips, pressing himself to her in a tight embrace as their lips locked together. One kiss turned to many, and suddenly, Hermione found her hand wandering closer and closer to the area slightly below Severus' waistline. As she went to touch what she had been longing to even _think _about for the past month, he grasped her by the wrist and moved her hand away deftly.

"There is something to be said for waiting," he whispered in her ear, allowing his lips to graze her earlobe softly, sending shudders throughout her body. "And I daresay we ought to be going up to the Great Hall. We must be late for the feast already..."

"Yes," she said vaguely, wondering how the feast could ever take precedence in a situation where the two of them being alone was involved. Slowly, she came to her senses and pulled away from him. "And we'll wait..."

"Of course, you should know," he said, his deep voice blatantly suggestive despite his words, "I never put out on the first date."

Hermione giggled and said, "Good, I wouldn't want to date someone so easy." She slipped a hand into his and said, "Would it be alright if you accompanied me like this,"--she squeezed his hand--"to the Great Hall?"

"I think that would be more than alright," he said, pulling her close to him as they began walking up from the shore. After a mere few steps, Severus stopped and turned to her saying. "I almost forgot! I have something rather special to give you..." He opened his robe and pulled out a small white rose, perfect in shape and size and as delicate as lace. Her heart fluttered as he placed the flower into her hand and closed her fingers around it with his own. "As a token of my... appreciation... for all that had happened between us previously. So you know that it all wasn't in vain... and an apology for calling you insipid. You and I both know that you are the furthest thing from it."

Hermione accepted the flower without saying a word. Her smile gave away her gratitude, and the way that she grasped his hand so tightly, as they made their way to the Great Hall, gave away her happiness and joy for all of the prospects that lay ahead of them.

--

Hermione scurried to her seat next to Ginny in the Great Hall, clutching at the small white rose in her hands. As she squeezed in next to her best friend, she could not bear to keep it in any longer. Before Ginny could ask her where the hell she was through a mouthful of potatoes, Hermione squealed, "He asked me out on a date!"

"He?" she said, nearly choking on her food. "You mean..."

"Severus!" she said, her voice shaking with excitement. "He asked me out and gave me a flower and apologized and he is taking me to _Italy_ for dinner next Thursday!"

Ginny stared at her in disbelief. Hermione did not seem to be aware that the whole of the Weasley family and a good amount of other Gryffindors were also staring at her. It wasn't until she heard an all-too-familiar male Weasley's voice say, "Snape... _Professor _Snape... asked _you_ out on a date?"

Hermione whipped around only to find Ron's face far too close to her own. She pulled back from him, saying, "Well... he isn't my professor anymore, is he?"

"Yeah, Ron," said George from the other side of him. "She does have a point. Even if he is a great ugly foul git, it is perfectly normal for people of their age differences to date." Even George was glaring at Hermione, now.

"Correction," said Lavender, from across from Ron, who finally took a break from shoveling food into her mouth. "He _used_ to be an ugly git. He's been taking care of himself lately, and he seems to be a lot nicer, to boot. He's stopped wearing those robes... he _is _rather attractive. Like scholarly-attractive. I'm not surpised, Hermione..."

Ron scowled at his current girlfriend, saying, "Don't you side with her, and he is _not_ attractive OR nice!" He turned back to his ex-girlfriend, saying, "And what about your mystery lover? What will he have to say about you dating your old Professor, hmm?"

"Things change," said Hermione simply, trying not to giggle at the fact that Ron was too thickskulled to see the very obvious correlation between Snape asking her out and her fabled 'mystery lover'. "People change and situations change... that's just how it goes, Ronald. Now relax, accept the fact that I am rather excited about this date, and eat some of that pie--it looks rather delicious..."

"Yes, I suppose... I _do _like pie..."

Ginny pulled Hermione away from the food-distracted Ron and back to her, saying in her ear, "He gave you a _flower_? That is not what I was expecting from the man I caught you in bed with!"

"It's so beautiful," she said, taking the flower out and showing it to Ginny. "It smells lovely... I love smelling it, the petals feel so nice against my nose..."

"Hermione?" asked Ginny, staring in horror into the hand that the flower was in. "That isn't a rose that Professor Snape gave you.

Hermione looked into her hand only to find very lacy items of her wardrobe that had evidently gone missing since their bedroom encounter. She shoved her hand under the table, praying that nobody saw her lingerie that she seemed to be presenting to Ginny as well as all of the people around her. Ginny couldn't help but giggle at Hermione's reddened face and reaction. Hermione turned around to face the High Table, only to see Severus Snape busting his gut laughing, hanging on to a somewhat frightened Professor McGonagall's arm. Hermione couldn't help but admit that the man had pulled a clever one on her. She didn't even need to go on a date with him to learn of his wicked sense of humor.

As she finally locked eyes with him from across the room, his laughter subdued itself to a suppress chuckle, and he simply smiled at her. He flicked his wand in her direction and felt the lacy material form back into the rose again. As it did, she laid the rose on the table next to her, turning her gaze to Professor McGonagall, who was looking at her sternly. Hermione wondered how much she would disapprove of this new turn of developments regarding Severus and her, and then she found that she did not care much. It was her life, and she would make her own mistakes, and she was nearly certain that Severus was not going to be one of them.

As she turned back to Ginny, who was scrutinizing the flower (that occasionally liked to turn into panties), she felt an incredible lurch in her stomach. Her nausea was back and worse than ever--the sudden urge to vomit was absolutely unstoppable; she turned just in time around to splatter the contents of her stomach onto the floor behind her seat. A chorus of "Ewws" and "That's disgusting!" erupted from all sides of her, she felt a sense of relief come upon her, followed next by a feeling of anticipatory dread. She had been avoiding this thought that she had in the back of her mind for awhile now, talking herself into the very plausible idea that she was sick with the flu. She had slight fevers, chiils and nausea, but the flu never lasted this long at this time of year, and she never was _horribly _feverish...

Ginny pulled the hair out of Hermione's face, stood her upright, and helped her out of her seat. As they started walking away from the table, she caught Snape's eye, unable to stop from grinning like an idiot, vomit running down the side of her jaw. He grinned back, although she was rather sure that he could never grin like an idiot in the sense that most could; grinning was tough enough, as it were.

Suddenly, the lurching in her stomach was back. "Oh God..." said Hermione, clutching at her stomach and mouth, walking towards the exit of the Great Hall more quickly.

Ginny looked at her in disbelief, saying the words that Hermione dreaded to hear but knew to be true. "Merlin's balls, you're pregnant, aren't you?" Her voice carried, and there was an awkward silence at the High Table as the two girls passed.

Hermione gulped. Snape dropped his fork in mid bite. Professor McGonagall looked scandalized, promptly elbowing Snape in the ribs. Professor Dumbledore, however, looked on the scene merrily, as he was so apt to do in these sorts of crisis situations.

"Banana pudding, Severus?" he said with a chuckle. Severus turned to the Headmaster, glaring daggers at the sweet old man. "No? Oh, I suppose she'll be craving some soon enough, and I daresay you'd take a little pudding from her!"

**--the end!-- **


End file.
